


Fated To Pretend

by Senna_Frost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Action/Adventure, Alpha Dean, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel and Jimmy Novak Are Twins, DCJ Big Bang, DCJ Big Bang 2017, Drama & Romance, Everyone Switches!, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Heat Sex, Hurt Dean Winchester, Knotting, M/M, Major Angst with a Happy Ending!!!, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Minor canonical character death, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Castiel, Omega Jimmy, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, POV Jimmy Novak, Passengers (2016) Fusion, Passengers AU, Pining, Pining Castiel, Pining Dean, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Set in the future, Severe Depression, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Some Canon-Typical Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Switching, Threesome - M/M/M, True Mates, Twincest, Voyeurism, brief suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 47,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senna_Frost/pseuds/Senna_Frost
Summary: THEN:In the future, space has truly become the final frontier, what with Earth having reached critical mass and unable to sustain life, mostly due to overpopulation and over-mining of resources. Ships of colonists and crews were sent out, planets recruited for their life-sustaining qualities and colonies established.Dean Winchester, chosen for his pure alpha status and useful skill set as a Mechanical Engineer, is aboard one such starship, the Impala, en route to New Hope IV, a planet very much similar to Earth, a journey of 120 years away.NOW:Due to unforeseen circumstances, Dean wakes 90 years too early. Unable to return to stasis in his hibernation pod, he realizes that he will spend the rest of his life alone and will most certainly be dead before the ship ever reaches her destination. Having hit rock bottom, in a strange twist of fate, Dean stumbles across Omega twins Castiel and Jimmy Novak and falls head over heels into obsession and ultimately decides to awaken them.





	1. Prologue: The Starship Impala

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So this was my entry for the DeanCasJimmy BigBang2017. It was all finished, but the night before I was slated to post it, disaster struck in the form of the blue screen of DEATH, destroying 37k of an 80k fic. I've salvaged what I can and am now doing my best to reconstruct the lost scenes from my notes and memory. We'll see how I do. The first three chapters are quite long and mostly intact, so that's good and it's also what I'll be posting for now as I work to re-finish the ending.  
> Big shout outs go to Kuwlshadow for her fan-damn-tastic art, which I will be embedding in the fic (hopefully!!) She did an amazing job of capturing the tone I was going for and bringing the Starship Impala to life in a way my words could not. If you can't see the embedded art, here's the links for the gorgeous pieces she created: http://kuwlshadow.livejournal.com/83529.html  
> http://kuwlshadow.tumblr.com/post/161189450448/title-fated-to-pretend-author-senna-frost  
> And to TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving! You have been a wonderful cheerleader, sounding board and just so excited in general for this story, you are a big part of the reason why I'm working hard to finish it and get it posted here, thank you so much. You've been an invaluable source of positive, constructive feedback and encouragement! Go check out the fic she wrote for the DCJBB2017 and all the other awesome works posted in the month of May for this sweet ship!  
> Oh, and seeing as this is a fusion of the movie Passengers, which came out in 2016, some passages of dialogue or scenes will definitely be familiar to those who've seen the film, though knowledge of the movie is absolutely not necessary to enjoy the story, I've changed quite a few things, including the ending. And the title of the fic comes from the song, "Time to Pretend," by MGMT.

 

~*~*X*~*~

 

FATED TO PRETEND

 

PROLOGUE: THE STARSHIP _IMPALA_

 

~*~X~*~

 

A long time from now, in a galaxy far, far away, deep in the outer reaches of space, the Starship _Impala,_ a giant, gleaming beauty of black and silver, hurtled along blithely. Her course set for the colony world of New Hope IV, a planet only slightly smaller in mass than Jupiter and one hundred and twenty years away in the Proxima Centauri star system.

 

The ship held five thousand colonists and 258 crew members, all encased within individual hibernation pods which would keep them young, stabilized and alive for the duration of the journey til' it was time to awaken. The ship was programmed to rouse its passengers four months prior to their arrival on New Hope IV so that all aboard would have time to re-acclimate before landing on the planet that was to be their new home.

 

The ship's hold was cavernous and contained every conceivable item that might be needed in the construction of a new colony, including, but not limited to, building and medical supplies, farming implements, various plants and trees to aid in terra-forming, plus enough food to last the colonists and crew several years in case their attempts at farming didn't pan out as expected. Not to mention all the day-to-day necessities and additional other odds and ends that all added up to a deluxe starter kit, that once assembled, would resemble Earth as she was, in the halcyon days of old.

 

The passengers were made up of a varied assortment of betas, alphas and omegas, with the latter two being in the minority, though every single one had been thoroughly examined and found to be in the peak of reproductive health. All possessed at least one or more useful skills, be it medical care, engineering or farming, each skill-set was chosen carefully with the intent to be beneficial in the creation of a new society.

 

In the last three hundred years or so, whatever unknown evolution that had caused the inception of the genetic mutation of alpha/beta/omega dynamics had suddenly begun to die out, generation by generation, which many saw as a transformative step in the right direction; Earth had become overpopulated in the extreme, thanks to the rise of pregnancies in females, but also now males, the mutation allowing for omega males and females to be doubly fertile in and out of their heats, paired with the potency of male alphas, often resulting in twins and triplets. Suppressants were of course available, but often failed, biology trumping pharmacology, much to the chagrin of scientists and chemists everywhere.

 

Global warming had come and gone, leaving parts of the world melting like a snowball in hell and other areas frozen like the inside of a microwave burrito. The weather had become schizophrenic, pattern-less and dangerous. Pollution was at an all-time high, resources were past the point of depletion and the planet was slowly withering and dying, which spelled death for her inhabitants as well. There were pockets of Earth where cities still flourished within bio-domes, but they were few and far between, not to mention extremely costly to live in.

 

Nowadays, a mere ten percent of the world's population still presented as alpha or omega, but the majority were betas, a presentation which never had differed too much from the past, regular old homegrown humans of the 20th century. Bit by bit it seemed, Mother Nature was trying to get the human race back on track, arbitrarily ret-conning the tricky bit of code that had resulted in a genetic defect that had spurred this strange phase of unnecessary mutation. But unfortunately, it wasn't moving quickly enough, the planet would give out long before her occupants numbers lowered to a more manageable size and in the interim something had to be done to contain the damage.

 

The world's governments and foremost scientists had eventually come up with a plan early in the 21st century, with the help of the most advanced company on Earth, Richard Roman Enterprises, a multi-billion dollar corporation that was the leader of the pack when it came to cutting edge technology, space travel and the building of colony planets. It was a lucrative business, what with the desperate need for Earth's citizens to vacate their homeworld and emigrate to a new locale, wherever that might be. It turned out that space truly was the last and final frontier and Roman Enterprises had capitalized on that to the greatest extent, having colonized half a dozen planets so far, and were largely being hailed by the media as the saviors of humanity, which, to those who were more familiar with the cutthroat inner workings of Roman Enterprises, was also a colossal joke.

 

Roman Enterprises also held the patent on hibernation pods, which were absolutely essential to interstellar flights, especially those that spanned one to five years or more as most of them did and thus was another highly profitable avenue that had led to them being the richest company on Earth and beyond. Any flaws or bad press (which with alarming frequency abounded) was easily swept under the carpet with the right amount of money greasing the right hands. From the outside, it was hard to prove that Roman Enterprises was inherently evil, it was simpler to say that they had gotten sloppy, lazy, more prone to cutting corners due to greed, and maybe like many companies that started out, they'd had honorable intentions, but as absolute power corrupts absolutely, so their crusade to help save Earth had delved into shadier waters as time went by.

 

Less than half the original population remained on Earth now, most had been snared by the new so-called American Dream and in total, six ships like the Starship _Impala_ had been dispatched, all in the last five years, three each going to the two latest planets to have been claimed habitable, New Hope IV and Homestead II. Hundreds of other ships had been dispatched over the years, proving the theory of sustainable life on other planets, therefore providing a solution for some of Earth's problems.

 

Interstellar flights were now all the rage, younger generations seeing them as more of a status symbol than for their primary, more important purpose of saving Earth so that she might once again flourish and not die out entirely, because despite her temporary breakdown, Earth was still the cradle and center of civilization, the prototype that all other recently inhabited, colonized planets strove to recreate.

 

Currently, aboard the Starship _Impala_ , the man who was one of the head engineers in charge of her repairs and upgrades was blissfully asleep, awaiting his awakening just like all the others.

 

Dean Winchester was a fine specimen of an alpha. Green-eyed, tall, broad and strong, with fine features, purebred for generations of his family, with enhanced senses and potent virility, his status currently single and unmated.

 

Like many, Dean felt that Earth was no longer home, he missed the way it had been, as portrayed by many of his favorite books and movies, now ancient relics of a bygone and forgotten time, aware that it would never be that way again.

 

And while Earth may have been mostly unsalvageable for the time being, there was nothing to say that all the things he had loved about Earth couldn't be recreated elsewhere, resurrected through a mix of modern technology and hard work to produce something that was a combination of old and new and great once more.

 

Secretly, he harbored the quiet hope that someday he'd be able to return to Earth, perhaps when there were less people on Earth to destroy it and nature was allowed to come into her own again and heal the wounds humanity had wrought, it might slowly grow back to a habitable state, able to sustain life once more.

 

But for now, he was headed to a new home, a new life, a fresh start and Dean was looking forward to building his own home, designing it exactly as he wanted and using raw materials, pouring his blood, sweat and tears into a creation that was purely his.

 

One of the reasons Dean had been eager to start over fresh, was that there was not much that could be built or created anymore, due to overcrowding and additionally, most things had already been invented, patented and perfected. Dean's main work on Earth had consisted largely of repairs and re-modification.

 

There was no room to develop or expand, nothing to explore or discover, it was stifling and suffocating and Dean wanted to get out of the rut he felt his life had gotten stuck in, wanted to breathe clean, fresh air, wanted to branch out, wanted to step outside and not see anyone in his immediate vicinity, wanted to build and create to his heart's content. And he wanted a special person to share it all with. It was not for nothing that he'd been chosen for his perfect health, potent virility and umated status; Dean and his fellow passengers were being charged with starting a new colony...and all that it entailed.

 

Still, he hoped to mate for love, not just to help boost the population or due to the biological imperatives of heats and ruts. He wanted to fall head-over-heels in love, find his true-mate or the closest approximation at any rate, as good a fit as possible, be it alpha, beta, omega, male or female, he wasn't picky, mate was mate. True-mates were rare nowadays, but not unheard of; his parents had been true-mates and Dean aspired to find his.

 

He'd had a few close calls on Earth, people that he'd thought he might be able to build and share a life with, but none of them had stood the test of time, and each failed relationship made him feel more hollow than the last, until he'd finally given up, throwing himself into his work and doing his best to provide for Sam, what with his mother dead and his father having checked out, unable to bear the pain of a broken mating bond. As an alpha, particularly one with as strong a bloodline as his, it was firmly rooted in his nature, an intrinsic part of his personality, to take care of those he loved. It was more than biology, it was an intense craving that manifested as a chasm that plumbed the depths of his very core, yearning to be filled and satisfied. Dean felt he had a better chance of accomplishing this by leaving, starting over while he was still young enough to have a shot.

 

For Dean, the draw of New Hope IV was that nothing was there, it was like a blank canvas, waiting to be painted into existence. Dean had packed with him all his old records, books and movies, many of which had been passed down through the generations, lovingly saved to share with sons and daughters by those who appreciated older, finer things. He wanted to follow in the tradition of keeping the things that had made Earth a wonderful place, alive.

 

He'd even taken the liberty of drawing up blueprints of the house he wanted to build, tinkering around until it was flawless, matching up with all the ideals he'd ever had about what constituted the most consummate home. Many aspects were taken from his old family home before it had burned to ashes, or special bits of architecture from his favorite buildings that he'd managed to incorporate into his plan, resulting in an eclectic but charming and hopefully, cozy domain, that with any luck he would one day share with his mate.

 

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

 

Thirty years into their journey and the Starship _Impala_ was still sailing along steadily on autopilot when she suffered what seemed to be a minor brush with the Vesta asteroid field.

 

Millions of years before, Vesta had been a large enough asteroid to be classified as a dwarf planet but at some unknown point in time had experienced a crust-penetrating impact that had shattered it to bits, creating the asteroid field that currently existed.

 

In the command ring, _Impala's_ power immediately diverted to the main shields, impact protocol initiated, protecting her from the worst of the blows, but as she barreled through a particularly dense cloud of space debris, she suddenly struck a much larger chunk of rock that had been hidden behind it, precipitating a shock-wave that shook the ship to her core, her computers trilling anxiously, sending up alerts for sustained collision damage reports.

 

The power was knocked out momentarily, the entire ship going dark briefly, before her secondary generators kicked into overdrive, sending power to the main reactor, jump-starting it to regain primary control and with this action successfully completed, the generators were deactivated, thus with the principle power re-engaged, the lights and all other functions flickered back to life.

 

Meanwhile, in the command ring, holographic screens popped up displaying over a dozen messages of damage amid much beeping and chirping, autopilot giving the command to proceed with auto-repairs where it could.

 

The system error alerts all gradually vanished, one by one, as the corresponding problems were fixed, until there was only a single blinking report left, but since the hibernation pods were fail-safe, the computer read the failure of Pod 1979 as a glitch due to the power outage, saving and filing the report away. Power redirected to the fusion reactor and various other areas and _Impala_ seemed no worse for wear, continuing along her set course.

 

However, elsewhere within the ship, in the passenger hibernation deck, Pod 1979 abruptly lit up and with a whoosh of electricity, activated the reanimation process with a low whirring noise.

 

The awakening of one _Winchester, Dean M._ began with the hissing of gas, as oxygen slowly filled the plexi-glass chamber, his name, passenger registration number, vital status and picture identification flashing across the screen, verifying that he was indeed Dean Michael Winchester of Lawrence, Kansas, 31 years of age, a Rate 1 Mechanical Engineer and a Class 1 Alpha male.

 

An oxygen mask clamped down over his nose and mouth, pumping air into his lungs before two large white paddles snaked up and settled on his chest, delivering a controlled electric shock that halted the fibrillation of his heart and central nervous system, before restarting them in order to allow a restoration of all his normal rhythms that had been slowed down and regulated to comply with the demands of hibernation.

 

The paddles retreated and a needle sprung up with a mechanized hum, pricking his skin to deliver a post-stasis injection that would help rid his system of the drugs administered to facilitate hibernation originally. The mask pumped a few more breaths of oxygen into his lungs before withdrawing too.

 

With another jolt and a deep gasp, his eyelids fluttered, parting slowly to reveal hazy green eyes and Dean Winchester fully awoke.

 

The pod gently reoriented from parallel to the floor, to an upright position, plexi-glass doors whisking open outwardly near-silently, the thin, reclining pallet Dean rested upon automatically lifting til he was halfway between sitting up and lying down, prompting the computer to chime happily to signify the discharge of the passenger.

 

He was greeted by a cool, calm, collected female voice. “Good morning, Dean. I'm Tessa. How are you feeling?”

 

Dean blinked a few times muzzily, trying to focus on the screen a few inches in front of him, where a pretty, dark-haired woman smiled blandly at him.

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“It's perfectly normal to feel confused,” Tessa assured smoothly.

 

Dean gripped the sides of the pod, taking several deep breaths, fighting the disorientation coursing through him.

 

“You just spent one hundred and twenty years in suspended animation,” Tessa continued on, even as Dean flailed a little at her words, none of it making sense, his hands smacking through the hologram, distorting her image temporarily.

 

“What?” Dean asked again, breathlessly, his brain and other systems still working hard to come back online; a task made more difficult as he tried to remember how to draw in breath normally, not like a fish out of water.

 

“It's okay, Dean. Just breathe. Everything is okay.”

 

“Where am I?” He questioned dazedly.

 

“You're a passenger on the Starship _Impala_ ; Roman Enterprises premier interstellar starliner. We've nearly completed the voyage from Earth to your new home, the colony world of New Hope IV.” Tessa answered readily, a visual of the planet appearing behind her with varied lush views of turquoise and lavender skies with the three nearest moons clearly visible, plus the different vistas and landscapes to be found in the new world, all of it strange and beautiful.

 

When Dean didn't reply, she carried on with the company party-line. “A new world. A fresh start. Room to grow!” Tessa's smile was professional and somewhat plastic, but since she was only a hologram, Dean didn't pay much mind to it.

 

“Oh, yeah,” he breathed out, his memory was starting to return gradually, and he no longer felt like he was going to hyperventilate.

 

“The _Impala_ is on final approach. For the next four months you'll enjoy space travel to the most luxurious extent. Food, fun and friends!” Tessa told him with practiced eagerness, as though trying to drum up his interest, images of all-you-can-eat buffets, various forms of entertainment and scores of gorgeous people flashing by behind her.

 

“Friends?” Dean didn't remember having too many friends, there was Sam...Sam...his brother...where was Sam? “Sammy?” he whispered. “Sammy?!”

 

“That's right Dean, your friends will be happy to see you!” Tessa steamrolled on merrily, ignoring him when he called out for Sam again, this time louder.

 

“The ID band on your wrist is your key to the wonders of the _Impala_ ,” Tessa informed him, holding up her own arm to show him.

 

Dean groaned unhappily, raising his left arm up to see the silver metal band encircling his wrist, engraved with his name and passenger identification number. Whatever. As soon as he woke up a little more, he was gonna go find Sam.

 

“You're in perfect health, Dean. Let's get you to your cabin where you can get some rest,” Tessa encouraged and Dean nodded groggily, stepping down out of the pod, a whirring behind him signaling that the bed had retracted as the pod then returned to its original position.

 

Legs still shaky, Dean leaned against the pod for a few moments, trying to regain his equilibrium. A drawer at the side of the pod popped open, revealing a soft grey robe, which he wrapped around himself gratefully, shivering minutely in the thin silver tank shirt and shorts that he'd entered hibernation in.

 

The hologram of Tessa flickered out, then reappeared at the entrance of the hibernation deck, beckoning to him. He followed, rubbing his temples and groaning softly, moving out into the corridor, motion activated lights coming on as he did so, making him squint in discomfort, eyes sensitive after years of disuse.

 

Idly, he noticed small floor-cleaning robots whizzing about quietly that reminded him of the old Roomba iRobots he remembered tinkering with for fun when he was a kid. At his approach, they sped away, disappearing into a hatch in the side of the wall as he stumbled past.

 

Tessa's voice echoed slightly overhead as she intoned, “You may be experiencing post-hibernation sickness.” Dean giggled stupidly at this. It was his dream come true. He was fucking Han Solo right now. If he ignored the ultra-modern look of the ship, he could pretend that he'd just been unfrozen from the carbonite by Leia in disguise (hello, metal golden bikini!) and that Jabba's minions were about to throw him into a cell with Chewie. Did that make Sam Luke Skywalker? Well, the kid sure as hell had the hair for it.

 

These obvious delusions were rudely interrupted by Tessa helpfully informing him, “Your door will illuminate for you.”

 

Dean stared around blearily until he noticed a door down a hallway to his left pulsing with teal green light and accordingly trudged to it, waving the wrist with his 'key' in front of the sensor until the door slid open smoothly.

 

Tessa materialized once more. “Welcome to your cabin, your home until we make landfall. Over the next four months, you'll prepare for your new life on New Hope IV, get to meet your fellow passengers, take skill-building classes and learn about colonial living.” Dean yawned loudly, cracking his jaw as he did so, before snorting at her statement.

 

Ha! That was a fucking joke. Dean had read about how the colonials and pioneers hundreds of years before had actually lived, and _this_ , was _not_ that. For one thing, they had a shit-ton more technology, know-how, supplies and food than those poor bastards had back then, but still, for the most part they'd managed to do alright, so Dean had relatively high hopes.

 

Unperturbed by his derision, Tessa carried on robotically. “Dean Winchester. You have been assigned to Learning Group 25, for passengers with engineering and technical trade skills. Please scan your ID now to confirm luggage delivery.”

 

Tessa gestured at the wall to their right and Dean flapped his arm at it tiredly, the blue holo-sensor glowing brightly before a large compartment slid open to reveal all the suitcases and cargo containers he'd packed so carefully years before. At least it all seemed to be here, but if his record player was damaged in any way, he was gonna rip somebody a new one.

 

The sound of liquid flowing into a cup distracted him and he turned around to see a drink dispenser behind him and a glass of pale pink fluid. “To help you recover from hibernation, be sure to drink plenty of fluids,” Tessa reminded him.

 

Worn out by just the few steps it took to get him to the other side of the room, he slumped against the wall as he chugged down the drink thirstily, which reminded him of the fruity vitamin water back on Earth that Sam loved so much. Didn't taste too bad and he was sure it was chock full of nutrients, which couldn't do him any harm right now after being asleep for 120 years.

 

Tessa smiled approvingly as he gulped down the liquid. “Your Learning Group meets tomorrow at 10am for your first class. Enjoy the rest of your stay on the _Impala_ , a Roman Enterprises Starship.” Her little spiel all finished for now, Tessa disappeared once more and Dean was alone.

 

The first order of business was to take the mother of all pisses and then sleep for the next ten hours, Dean decided. Funny how he'd been asleep for the last hundred plus years but was still tired. Oh well, a few hours rest and he'd be good as new. He lurched into the bathroom to relieve himself with a hearty sigh of satisfaction.

 

His cabin wasn't at all spacious, perhaps a bit smaller than your standard single motel room back on Earth, but it was fine for one person. Besides, Dean didn't plan to be spending a lot of time in it anyways, there was so much else he was going to be doing in preparation for beginning his new life. There was a remote on the night table that allowed him to set a wake-up alarm, which he activated, not wanting to be late for his class in the morning.

 

The bed wasn't memory foam like he preferred, nor as big as his old California King back on Earth, but was springy enough as he face-planted down onto it and this time, fell into a natural, restful sleep, secure in the knowledge that he had reached his destination and very soon would start the new life he had dreamed of.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Morning seemed to come quickly, though it was hard to tell in his windowless room, so he just had to trust his alarm when it told him it was 8am. His dreams had been a jumble of memories and had gone largely unremembered, for which he was rather gratified, this was a going to be a clean slate for him.

 

Feeling more refreshed than he had expected, it was with minimal grumbling that he got up and eased into the shower, relishing every single minute of hot water he was allotted, limited as it was to conserve their stores. His body was still waking up, recovering from stasis, though he was glad to see his dick perk up under the warm spray, even if he was a bit too hungover from hibernation to do anything about it just yet. His alpha senses weren't back online quite yet either, he couldn't even scent himself, let alone anyone else, but maybe once he was around a big group of people like he was used to, things would be back to normal. He decided to forgo scent blockers for today, letting his alpha recover somewhat before subduing it with scent blocking soaps and deodorants which he despised anyways.

 

After his shower, in lieu of setting up his record player yet, he conceded to hook up the iPod Sam had given him on his last birthday before he left Earth, queuing up a playlist of his favorite old classic rock songs. Humming along happily to 'Traveling Riverside Blues,' he puttered about, trying to decide what to wear. It turned out that wanting to look good, but not look like he'd put a lot of effort into doing so, was harder than he'd supposed. But he managed, settling on a pair of dark-wash jeans, a black t-shirt and after much deliberation, he left off the rich, red leather jacket he'd packed, it was pretty damn sexy and Dean just wasn't feeling it today, choosing instead a plaid flannel over-shirt in tones of blue and grey, which was understated, but still nice.

 

He scrutinized himself in the mirror and made finger guns at his reflection. Dean Winchester was single and ready to mingle! Feeling like a giant dork, he rolled his eyes at himself, easily able to imagine the mocking grin that Sam would be sporting right about now.

 

Once he was dressed, he chose to munch on a couple of complimentary protein bars and more girlishly pink vitamin water he was sure Sam would've loved, instead of going down to the communal dining room for breakfast. Dean was still feeling too shaky in the greenbeans to be around a bunch of people this early in the morning and with no goddamn coffee in his system yet.

 

He shaved and brushed his teeth, spent a few minutes combing his hair down neatly, only to change his mind, adding a dollop of product and spiking it all up messily, before he realized that he was dawdling now due to a combination of excitement and nerves.

 

With morning had also come the return of his memory, the good and the bad. It was with bone-deep sadness that he recalled that Sam was not on this ship; he had left two years before Dean, with his mate Jess, having majored in environmental science and engineering, eager to go off and do his part to save Earth by spearheading the birth of a new civilization. By now, Sam had already reached New Hope IV, and Dean was impatient to see all that he was sure his ambitious, giant alpha of a little brother had already achieved.

 

Dean didn't regret his decision to stay behind to take care of his ailing father, but it had torn out a chunk of his heart to send Sam off into the vastness of space without him. Yet, he couldn't deny Sam a dream he'd cultivated since he was a skinny, unpresented pre-teen, always bubbling with ideas on how to improve things and make life better. Sam's smarts and alpha status had helped him fast-track his education, graduating a year earlier than planned, then taking a year off to back-pack around the world with Jess, gaining insight on what changes could be implemented on another planet and generally just enjoying what few sights there were left to be seen on Earth before they disappeared forever.

 

Sam, of course, had begged Dean to come along with him, but in all good conscience, or maybe it was just the responsibility of being the oldest and his own alpha sensibilities, he selflessly freed Sam of the duties of care-giving. Endowing him with the freedom to pursue the life he'd always wanted, a fact Sam had been grateful for til his departure, when it must have truly sunk in that he was leaving his big brother/best friend behind and through the dual tools of puppy-dog eyes and tears, he had extracted a promise from Dean. The assurance that when their father passed on, Dean would pack up his belongings and jump on the next ship off this rock and give himself the same gift he had bestowed upon Sam, a fresh start and the leeway to do whatever made him happy.

 

John Winchester had been dying by inches for years, ever since his true-mate Mary had died tragically in a house fire that only Sam, Dean and John had survived. The mating bond destroyed, he had plummeted into the bottom of a bottle of whiskey and never crawled back out, leaving the raising of Sam squarely on Dean's young shoulders.

 

A year and ten months after Sam and Jess departed, John finally succumbed to what his doctor had diagnosed as Broken Heart Syndrome, complicated by advanced cirrhosis of the liver, no surprise to anyone who knew him. Dean felt equal parts thankful that his father's suffering was ended, and sadness over the loss of one of the last living links to his past.

 

Dean's ties were few, no siblings other than Sam, parents and grandparents gone and those that were as good as family despite not being blood-related had already left Earth in the last few years, the one holdout being Bobby Singer, grumpy and curmudgeonly but oftentimes more of a father figure than John had been able to be.

 

Many of the patents that Roman Enterprises now held, they had obtained by way of obscene amounts of money handed over to Bobby and the old alpha had repeatedly assured Dean that he was more than happy to stay on Earth, ensconced within his scrapyard, tinkering and inventing away until he couldn't anymore, content to leave the trail-blazing to the younger generations, secure in the knowledge that he'd helped raise “his boys” right and that they'd carry that on into a new world and make things good again, avoiding the pitfalls of the past.

 

The small circle of friends Dean had been apart of also had rapidly diminished, many of them such as Charlie and Ash were geniuses in their own right and thus in high demand to help facilitate the rebirth of Earth on other planets.

 

With nothing and no one to keep him there, Bobby's blessing already given and his promise to Sam eating away at him, Dean had resigned from Roman Enterprises, packed up his personal workshop and small living quarters in less than a week and said his goodbyes. Roman Enterprises had been supremely unhappy to lose him, seeing as he was one of their top mechanical engineers.

 

Richard “Dick” Roman himself had held the meeting, and realizing that Dean was not to be swayed, offered him an unbelievably generous severance package, (going so far as to extend Dean a place aboard his personal flagship, the _Leviathan_ , which Dean politely declined) which included free passage to New Hope IV aboard the Starship _Impala_ , which Dean thought of as his airborne “Baby,” the title already held by the classic 1967 Chevy Impala, passed down through the generations. Though she had been considered un-drivable for years, due to most transportation having upgraded to some kind of hovercraft, not to mention the cost of gasoline and parts, Dean had still kept her in pristine, museum-worthy condition and only with deepest regret was leaving her in Bobby's infinitely capable hands, knowing Bobby would take good care of her for him. Private collectors and museums had been hounding Dean for years to sell the Impala. She was one of the last, intact specimens of a classic, bygone era, but it just had never sat right with Dean, Baby was family and you didn't sell off your loved ones, no matter the payoff.

 

So it was, that even though he was uncomfortable with the geniality and near-gross amount of money that Dick offered, seeing as they had butted heads over the way many of Dean's inventions were being put to use, he accepted, uncaring of the money but eager to leave and finally meet up with Sam. Yet even now, he couldn't forget the cold, oily smile and creepy, dark, shark eyes of his former boss, unctuously wishing Dean a safe flight, a slight shiver working its way through him as they shook hands for the last time, Dean brushing off his uneasy feeling with thoughts of the new life that awaited him with Sam and Jess.

 

And now, well, dammit, he had made it!

 

He really didn't want to think about the things and people he'd had to leave behind right now, he could dredge them up another time. Today was a new day and he was gonna do his level best to be positive for once. This was his chance to start all over and he was going to make the most of it.

 

With that thought firmly in mind, he gave his reflection one last reassuring smile in the mirror and strode out of his cabin.

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

At first, it didn't strike Dean as at all odd that he passed through the hallways and encountered not a single other person. He chalked it up to being early, everyone else still probably working through the hibernation sickness and sleeping late. Using his wristband to navigate once he left his cabin, he was directed down a series of hallways and then a short trip down a flight of stairs, where a brightly lit hallway blinked welcomingly at him.

 

He entered and was greeted by an orchestral but cheesy sounding fanfare and his old friend Tessa reappeared at the front of a large screen that took up an entire wall. She was dressed in the same blue flight attendant get-up as yesterday, not that Dean had really noticed, wrung out as he was from the whole Sleeping Beauty routine.

 

“Hello, passengers. Will you all please take a seat?” Tessa waved her arm magnanimously as though she was up on a parade float.

 

Dean looked around in confusion. He was the only one there. Where the hell was everybody else?

 

“Welcome, Learning Group 25. This is your introduction to colonial life.” Still stumped as to where the rest of his peers were, Dean sat as directed while Tessa began the song and dance routine she was programmed with, oblivious to the fact that Dean was her audience of one.

 

“Earth was and still is a prosperous planet, the cradle of civilization.” On the screen, images of Earth as it was when Dean had left, flowed across the screen, showing the black smog that had overtaken the sky and grimy, clogged cities. He wondered if things had changed at all for the better in the last 120 years while he'd been asleep.

 

“But for many, it's overpriced, overpopulated and overrated.” Dean snorted at this statement. Heh, some things never changed, he guessed. This was shit he already knew, all too well. The thought occurred to him that maybe he was in the wrong room and he raised his hand to get Tessa's attention to voice this.

 

“Uh, Tessa? Yeah, I think I may be in the wrong room-” Dean was interrupted as Tessa held up a finger, shushing him with the same cool voice and plastic smile as usual.

 

“Please hold all questions til the end!” Tessa admonished as Dean rolled his eyes.

 

Oh, for fuck's sake! This was like being back in grade school all over again.

 

Ignoring him, Tessa forged on. “The colonies offer an alternative, a better way of life. And there's no colony more beautiful than New Hope IV, the jewel of the occupied worlds!”

 

Dean smirked, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, sure, I bet you say that to all the other colonies, too.”

 

Clearing his throat, he tried again to voice his concern over his missing fellow passengers. “Hey, where is everyone--”

 

Tessa talked over him, her volume increasing to drown him out. “Thanks to Roman Enterprises, we can all enjoy a fresh start!”

 

Ughh...what a bunch of bullshit. Whelp, third time's the charm.

 

“Where is everyone?” Dean asked loudly, successfully garnering her attention this time.

 

Tessa smiled serenely at him. “We are all on the Starship _Impala_ , on final approach to New Hope IV.”

 

“But I'm the only one here,” Dean pointed out.

 

Voice turning more robotic, Tessa answered, “There are 5,000 passengers and 258 crew members.”

 

Well, shit, that didn't really answer his question, now did it? “So why am I alone then?” Dean reiterated.

 

Spreading her hands out in front of her in a placating manner, Tessa once again smiled that serene, blank smile. “We're all in this together,” she soothed.

 

Frowning and feeling freaked the fuck out, but trying not to show it, not even to a hologram, Dean smiled tightly and walked out of the room, bolting down the corridor once he was out of sight.

 

“Hello?!” He yelled, glancing from the left to the right, but not a soul was to be seen. He tipped his chin, scenting the air hopefully, but came up with nothing.

 

Knowing that his alpha senses weren't totally recovered from the hibernation yet, he wasn't surprised that he didn't smell anyone else around, he could just faintly smell himself now, but that was it, the space around him was sterile, quiet and empty.

 

Dean ran past his own cabin, blinking merrily at his approach, but he bypassed it, calling out, “Anybody there? Helloooo!!?”

 

He kept going until he reached a bank of elevators and swiping his wrist 'key' at it, waited anxiously for it to open. It arrived moments later, the electronic bell dinging melodically and Dean flung himself inside, even as a cool, modulated female voice instructed him to, “Please buckle up and secure any loose items.”

 

Dean plopped down, uncaring of the warning, “This elevator will experience a momentary lapse in gravity!” His mind was racing as fast as his heart, which was trying desperately to reenact the Indy 500, which was no longer a fair race in Dean's opinion.

 

Where the hell was everyone? Was he the only one awake? If so, then why the fuck?? Had something gone wrong with the other hibernation pods? The only thing he could think of was to search the ship from top to bottom til' he found someone. There had to be at least one other person awake. Right? Fucking right.

 

Dean's frantic thought process was rudely disrupted when he started floating up out of his seat, having forgone the seat belt, he now soared through the elevator compartment, scrabbling for something to hold onto.

 

He managed to grab one of the 'oh shit' handles by the window, gazing out into the starry black depths worriedly.

 

Craning his neck, he could see the rest of the ship, lights all blinking comfortingly. Dean found himself marveling over the beauty of the _Impala._ Sure, she had nothing on his real Baby, but she was still pretty damn fine in her own right, her shape reminiscent of a double helix, all sleek black and silver moving parts, constantly spinning and rotating, so that when viewed at a certain angle, she almost looked like a spinning pinwheel and Dean was proud to say he'd helped keep her airborne. This was by no means her maiden voyage either, the _Impala_ had already undertaken several interstellar flights, though none so long as this one. She could take a lickin' and keep on kickin', he'd made sure of that, outfitting her with many special re-modifications before they'd set off on this journey, a few of which had been pet projects of his and Bobby's. She was built to last, as so many things anymore just weren't.

 

Dean heaved a sigh of relief when the gravity booster kicked back on and his feet touched solid ground once more. The door opened with a cheerful chime and the cool female voice announced, “Grand concourse.”

 

Dean stepped out, glancing around at the cathedral high ceilings of thick, clear, indestructible plexi-glass that were open to the darkness of space and stars overhead and felt his anxiety heighten.

 

It was a fucking ghost ship.

 

The lights all flickering to life as his motion activated them, did nothing to distract from the absence of any human movement or noises whatsoever. Four levels of nothing and no one.

 

To his right, a tall waterfall suddenly was triggered by his presence, a huge cylindrical sheet of water; it was pretty, but it was not a person.

 

Then off to his left, he heard a voice and for a moment his heart leapt in relief, only to drop sickeningly, as he realized it was indeed a voice, but an automated one, emanating from a large glowing sphere filled with luminous blue hexagons that all bore different symbols.

 

Dean moved towards it anyways, hoping for information of some sort.

 

“Hello,” the voice said again, male this time, but still calm and friendly like Tessa's.

 

“Welcome to the Grand Concourse aboard the Starship _Impala_. How can I help you?” The voice asked courteously.

 

Dean huffed an exasperated laugh. “I need to talk to a person! A real, live person. Please?” He added on, but the “Infomat,” as he now saw it was called, wasn't affected by civility.

 

“What sort of person? Personal Trainer? Travel Planner? Therapist?” The Infomat rapidly spewed out options, each one represented by one of the blue hexagons and Dean giggled a little hysterically at the last suggestion.

 

“I-I..don't know,” he muttered, at a loss, briefly, then inspiration hit. “Somebody in charge!” Dean demanded.

 

“The ship's steward handles passenger affairs. It's on Level 3 of the Grand Concourse.”

 

“Thank you!” Dean grunted emphatically, taking off at a run.

 

“Happy to help!” The Infomat called out cordially from behind him, a large smiley face popping up on its interface, as though overjoyed to have assisted Dean.

 

But when he reached the frosted glass doors marked 'Passenger Affairs/Steward's Quarters', they swished open gracefully to reveal...nothing.

 

Not a damn thing. There wasn't a warm body in sight.

 

Everything looked totally neat. Undisturbed and unused.

 

Dean's eyes widened in shock. “Not good. Not fucking good at all. Son of a bitch!” Swearing some more under his breath, he turned on his heel, jogging back the way he'd come. At any rate, at least he was getting his exercise for the day.

 

He sought out the Infomat once more. “Hey!” He snapped, waving at it impatiently til it lit up. “Who's flying the ship?”

 

“The flight crew, the captain, the pilot, the chief navigator--” The Infomat rattled off, shuffling out the little hexagons with the corresponding symbols for Dean's inspection.

 

“Captain! I wanna speak to the captain!” Dean barked, cutting off the annoyingly chatty Infomat.

 

“The captain rarely handles passenger inquiries--”

 

“It's an emergency!” Dean bit out angrily. “Please.” As if politeness made any difference to a machine.

 

“The captain is usually found on the bridge, in the command ring,” the Infomat told him.

 

Dean was gone before that damn smiley face could grin mockingly at him again, running for the elevators and braving another gravity-free trip, ascended to the fourth level, the floor-lights activating at his approach. To his left there was a huge, circular, beveled door that he recognized as the entrance to the bridge and waving his wrist at it, waited for the keypad to emerge.

 

The outer door opened, revealing yet another door with a small window set in it and a little panel slid open as a measured female voice informed him, “Bridge access requires special authorization.”

 

Huffing in annoyance, Dean swiped his wristband in front of the sensor and punched in his personal code.

 

“Access denied.”

 

“Son of a bitch!” _What the fuck?!_ As one of the head engineers, Dean was supposed to have at least limited clearance for the bridge and command ring.

 

He tried again. And again. And one more time, because what the ever-loving fuck?!

 

Fuming, Dean crowded in against the door, peering through the small window to see the command ring within.

Fucking empty. He was sensing a pattern here.

 

He leaned back, grasping at his hair with both hands, eyes widening in horror. “You gotta be kidding me. You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he whispered softly to no one.

 

Panting heavily, he turned in a slow circle, wondering just what the fuck to do next.

 

Still undecided, he wandered back up the corridor for awhile until he stumbled into the Observatory, which lit up and played the same ridiculous orchestral fanfare as the Learning Group classroom had done.

 

“Welcome to the Observatory,” a deep baritone voice greeted him. Dean gazed about in amazement as the gigantic room filled up with holographic representations of all the stars and galaxies.

 

“What can I show you?” the voice asked calmly.

 

“We're supposed to land soon? I...I'm the only one awake...” Dean trailed off uncertainly.

 

“I don't understand. What can I show you?” The voice queried woodenly.

 

“Oh, fuck...fine...” Dean muttered, pissed off at being surrounded by nothing but fucking useless machines.

 

“Show me New Hope IV!”

 

The observatory swirled around him in a blur of color as his request was granted. “New Hope IV is the fourth planet in the Proxima Centauri system.” Beside him, New Hope IV glowed a pale blue and lavender and Dean nodded. “Right, okay and where are we?”

 

“We're in transit from Earth to New Hope IV. We will arrive in approximately 90 years.” The voice answered sedately, as though it hadn't just dropped the mother of all bombshells on Dean. A vivid gold line connected from the holograms of Earth to New Hope IV, showing their progress.

 

Dean's eyes bulged in disbelief. “What the _fuck_?” he gasped breathlessly.

 

“We arrive at New Hope IV in 90 years, three weeks and one day.” The voice reiterated, ignoring his distress.

 

“No! Wait, how long ago did we leave Earth?” Dean croaked hoarsely.

 

“Approximately 30 years ago.”

 

Dean edged closer to the miniature version of the ship slowly gliding along the golden line, marking its journey to New Hope IV from Earth, just barely a quarter of the way through her voyage. It couldn't be true...

 

“I woke up too soon.” The realization hit him like a freight train to the chest and suddenly Dean felt winded, crushed, like all the air just got sucked out of the room. Sinking to the floor he tucked his head between his knees and just tried to breathe, not even attempting to start making sense of this shitshow just yet.

 

He had to talk to someone. Send a message. Get help somehow.

 

Something. _Anything_.

 

Staggering up from the floor, he drug himself out of the room, back to the elevators and down to the Infomat yet again. They were old friends by now.

 

The Infomat lit up dazzlingly as usual. “Hello! How can I help you?”

 

“How do I send a message to Earth?” Dean asked wearily.

 

“Interstellar messages are sent by laser array. This is an expensive service,” The Infomat cautioned, as if worried about Dean spending so much money.

 

“Bite me,” he gritted out, smacking his fingers against the glowing blue hexagon and heading for the room that lit up correspondingly as he did so.

 

“Happy to help!” The Infomat rang out, displaying the ever-present smiley face. Stupid cheerful fucker.

 

Dean dropped into a chair in front of a large view screen that hummed to life as he sat down. The table-top in front of him lit up as he swiped his wrist at it and another cool, female voice was at his service.

 

“Planet and connection?”

 

“Uh, Earth, Roman Enterprises?”

 

The computer chirped and a directory appeared onscreen. “There are 130,826 contacts listed under Roman Enterprises.”

 

“I'm emigrating to New Hope IV and I have an emergency,” Dean specified, hoping to narrow things down.

 

“I have a customer help line,” the modulated female voice offered.

 

“Sounds about fucking right,” Dean grumbled. A blinking red light materialized on the table top, prompting Dean to tap it to begin recording his message.

 

“Hi. Uh, Dean Winchester here. I am a passenger on the _Impala_. I think something went wrong with my hibernation pod, I woke up too soon, and I mean, way too fucking soon! Nobody else is awake and I don't know how to get back to sleep. And the thing is, there's...shit...there's 90 years to go...at this rate..I'm...I'm gonna be...I'm sorry, I'm just trying to fix this and I could use some fucking help. That's all. Thanks, I guess, oh, uh, call me back please.” Dean finished, hitting the end button and feeling like that had been a useless endeavor.

 

He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, trying to think past the panic that was tightening around his chest like a titanium fist.

 

But then he had a fucking brainwave.

 

Fuck! Why hadn't he thought of it in the first place? He knew who to call.

 

Bobby. Bobby-fucking-Singer. That cantankerous old alpha bastard could get him outta any scrape and had too, in the past. Bobby wouldn't let him down, he'd know what to do. If Dean had faith in anyone, it was Sam and Bobby. Fuck. _Sam_. He should call Sam, too. Let him know he might be a little late. Dean let out a laugh that sounded closer to a sob and slapped at the screen, bringing the directory back up.

 

“Earth, Robert Steven Singer,” Dean crowed, hope flaring up.

 

Dozens of listings popped up, but Dean knew what he was looking for and tapped on the one with a Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Earth address.

 

The line opened and the red record button blinked on again and Dean took a deep breath.

 

“Bobby, hey, it's me, Dean...shit. Um, Houston, we have a problem. I'm on the Impala, Bobby, and my hibernation pod crapped out on me...I know, I know, impossible, right? Well, it did. I woke up too goddamned early, we're only 30 years in and there's still 90 fucking years to go. I don't know what to do, man, I'm all alone up here, no one else is awake. You...you gotta help me out, please, Bobby, if anyone can save my bacon, it's you. Fuck...I can't...I need your help, so call me back as soon as you get this...Please.”

 

Dean ended the transmission and paused over the touch-screen, debating whether or not to send a message to Sam as well. For all he knew, Bobby would get back to him and help him figure this mess out and everything would be fine, no reason to worry Sammy unnecessarily and make him freak out like the giant girl he was, alpha or not.

 

Dean tapped out of the messaging screen and the voice asked if he wanted to make any more calls. At his negative reply, the screen lit up with a large green envelope and squiggly lines, signifying his calls had gone through successfully.

 

“Message sent!”

 

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Dean snarked.

 

“Messages will arrive in...19 years. Earliest response estimate...55 years.”

 

“Wait, what?” Oh, _fuck_. God-fucking-dammit. How could he have forgotten? Fucking time delay.

 

“We apologize for the delay. That will be $12,016 dollars,” the computer coolly told him.

 

“Son of a bitch! Un-fucking-believable. Fucking highway robbery up in here.” Dean swore.

 

What a fucking horrible cosmic joke.

 

Well...that was that then. He was on his own.

 

 

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Tired, at his wit's end and in dire need of a drink, Dean wandered through the levels, sure there was a bar in there somewhere, had to be, either that or he was gonna have to go back to his cabin and break into his own stores. It didn't escape his notice that he probably could use a therapist right about now, but he'd much rather have a stiff drink, because even on a shitty day like this, Dean was more likely to chew off his own arm than talk about his _feelings_.

 

It had also occurred to him, as he had drifted out of the Messaging room, that thirty years had already passed, Bobby had been in his early sixties when Dean left Earth, which would make the old alpha at least ninety now, and while it was heartening that there had even been a current listing for him, he was an elderly man no doubt, he might have dementia, might not even remember Dean.

 

He'd known of course, that if things had gone as planned, when he landed on New Hope IV after 120 years, all the people he'd known back on Earth would have been dead anyways, but he had resigned himself to that reality, bolstered by the knowledge that he'd be with Sam and Jess, starting a new life. But now, awake and stranded in the middle of nowhere, his situation was relentlessly bleak.

 

Science had been making great leaps and bounds when it came to human longevity but no one was immortal yet, at least as far as Dean knew. Nobody was living too much past one hundred, one hundred and ten at the most and that was with only a rare, extraordinarily healthy few. Bobby drank like a fish, could give a fig about exercise and was no stranger to red meat. In nineteen more years when Dean's message eventually reached Earth, Bobby was sure to be dead and this thought almost brought him to tears. God, he needed a drink.

 

As he listlessly strolled past a virtual arcade, movement caught in his peripheral and he whipped to the right, joy suffusing him. Mellow jazz seeped out from the crimson red and glitzy golden haven with black accents that called to him with rows and rows of top shelf booze. The bar's décor was a vast and welcome departure from the rest of the ship's very modern layout, with kind of an art deco vibe, in fact, it reminded him of some of the classic old New York bars, sort of like a cross between Bemelman's and the Grand Central Oyster Bar in their heydays. It was a veritable oasis in Dean's immense, sterile desert.

 

And even better? Was that a fucking person?!

 

He rushed in, not daring to hope, but hoping nonetheless.

 

A blond man with scruffy stubble, dressed in a crisp white button down with a black cummerbund, paired with a debonair scarlet dinner jacket and jaunty black bow tie, glanced up from the high-ball glass he was polishing behind the glossy mahogany bar-top and smiled politely at Dean.

 

Inwardly, Dean snorted a tad hysterically, did the guy realize he was dressed like the bartender in that creepy old classic horror movie, “The Shining”? Maybe it was for the job, some kind of shtick?

 

Well, Dean was no Jack Torrance and this for damn sure was _not_ the Overlook, so hopefully he was safe from ol' Jack's fate.

 

“Afternoon, what can I get you?” The bartender asked in an elegant British accent.

 

“Oh man, you have no idea how good it is to see another face!” Dean enthused, coming closer and pulling up a bar stool for himself. “I thought I was the only one awake!”

 

“Who wants to sleep on a beautiful day like this?” The bartender replied, not pausing in his careful polishing of the glass.

 

Dean frowned at him in consternation. “No, dude, don't you get it? We're in serious trouble here! We are not supposed to be here right now!”

 

The bartender grinned cheekily at him, pale blue eyes twinkling. “Well, I won't tell if you don't.”

 

“Huh?” Dean countered a little dumbly. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Didn't he realize what was going on here?

 

“It'll be our little secret!” The bartender winked conspiratorially at him. “Now, what can I get for you?”

 

Dean just gaped at him. Was this dude drunk already? Self-medicating with his own stores?

 

The bartender sized him up unabashedly. “You look like a whiskey man.”

 

“Uhh...okay,” Dean was nonplussed.

 

There was a mechanical whirring and the bartender glided away smoothly as though he was on a hover-board, stopped to pluck an unopened bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue from the shelves behind him and then swung back with lightning speed to Dean, holding the bottle out for his consideration with a raised eyebrow.

 

Oh. _Oh_. Fuck.

 

Dean grasped the side of the bar and hefted himself up high enough to look over the edge. From the waist down the dude was all metal, didn't even have legs, the suit jacket hiding some of the complicated apparatus, but basically his lower half was an upright pole set into grooves in the floor, magnetized to allow him relatively free range of movement. Hmm...there was a dirty joke in there somewhere, but Dean was too tired and depressed to suss it out.

 

Well, that explained why he couldn't scent him at all, not that he had really noticed until now.

 

“You're a fucking robot,” he stated dully, glancing up at the dude, lowering himself back onto his stool.

 

“Android, technically,” the bartender corrected in a slightly snotty tone.

 

Oh, sweet Jesus, save him from sassy robots. Fuck.

 

The bartender set down a heavy tumbler in front of Dean and poured out a generous portion of the whiskey, nudging it towards him with a smirk and Dean forgave him just a little for his tone.

 

Dean fell upon the whiskey like a dying man in the desert and the bartender smiled approvingly at him.

 

“Balthazar's the name, and drinking is my game!”

 

“Dean,” gurgled Dean from the dregs of his whiskey, rolling his eyes at the cutesy rhyme.

 

“Pleased to meet you, Dean. More whiskey?”

 

Wordlessly Dean held out his glass only to have it automatically refilled. Thank god for small wonders.

 

Dean tried to slow down and savor this glass, sipping at it as a thought occurred to him. “How much do you know about this ship?”

 

“Hmm...I don't know. I know some things. Why?” The bartender picked up a glass and began drying it.

 

“What do I do if my hibernation pod malfunctions?”

 

Balthazar shook his head sagely. “Oh, what rubbish. Hibernation pods are fail-safe, they never malfunction.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief over the rim of his whiskey. “Well, I woke up early, didn't I?  
  


“Can't happen.” Balthazar smirked smugly.

 

Dean stared at him, mystified, then changed tact. “How long until we get to New Hope IV?” He asked conversationally.

 

“Oh, about 90 years or so.”

 

“And when are all the passengers supposed to wake up?”

 

“Not til the last four months,” Balthazar replied, still conscientiously polishing the glass.

 

“Then how is it that I'm sitting here with you, drinking this fine whiskey, with 90 fucking years to go, hmm? Riddle me that!”

 

Dean almost, but not quite, felt bad when Balthazar suddenly froze like someone had hit pause on the movie, twitching a few times as his processor worked out the glitch, then abruptly came back to life.

 

“Huh. It's not possible for you to be here!” Balthazar actually looked surprised too, for an instant, but then went back to his obsessive glass polishing.

 

Dean huffed and threw back the rest of the whiskey with an unsatisfying burn. “Well, I'm here anyways,” he reminded the bartender dejectedly.

 

Outsmarting a robot (oh, excuse him, _android_ ) hadn't made him feel any better than the whiskey had, which meant he hadn't drank nearly enough, so he snagged the still mostly full bottle of Johnnie off the counter and headed back to his cabin. Balthazar made no move to stop him.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter One: The First Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality sets in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's the next chapter as promised. I'll try to be as quick as I can with updates of the chapters already written, even as I'm scrambling to reconstruct the lost chapters between taking care of my grandma and having patchy internet service. I tried to post this chapter last night as soon as I got home from my grandma's, but Ao3 kept booting me off, so I'm trying again here. A big thanks goes out to all those who have left kudos and comments and just bothered to hit on this story and read it. You rock <333 A Happy Tuesday to all!  
> Warnings for: severe depression, suicidal thoughts and ideations and a brief, non-graphic suicide attempt.

~*~X~*~

 

CHAPTER ONE: THE FIRST YEAR

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Day 3~

 

 

Dean woke up with a hangover on top of his hangover, the whiskey not helping his recovery from hibernation. Cranky and desperately trying not to think too hard about his current predicament, he said _fuck it_ , and made his way down to the communal dining room still clad in his pajamas in search of coffee, figuring that real clothing was optional since there was no one to see or judge him anyways.

 

The communal dining room was huge, sterile and depressingly empty, just like the rest of the ship. In the middle of the room was a giant food simulator, where you could order breakfast, lunch and dinner no matter the time of day.

 

The lights all flickered on at his approach, but only served to highlight how alone he was. Closing his eyes against the brightness, he leaned against the side of the simulator and sleepily swiped his wrist at the screen.

 

The machine chimed softly at him and another cultured female voice asked for his selection.

 

“Coffee,” Dean grunted.

 

A pale green screen with at least fifteen different types of coffee appeared. Mmm...Glazed Donut Cappuccino sounded pretty awesome right about now, and since Sam wasn't there to make fun of him for ordering a frou-frou girly coffee drink, he tapped on it.

 

“Sorry, the Glazed Donut Cappuccino is reserved for Gold-Class passengers only.”

 

Fucking what?

 

Dean growled and tapped on the icon again and was told the same thing.

 

“I want the Glazed Donut Cappuccino, dammit!”

 

“Sorry--”

 

“Bill my room!”

 

“Food can be purchased--”

 

“Oh fucking fine!” Dean proceeded to then tap at every single other coffee flavor, even the Pumpkin Spice Delight and the Vanilla Chai Latte, pounding on the screen when all of them were denied to him except the large french roast coffee. Better than nothing, he supposed, taking it grudgingly before the damn machine could change its mind and deny him that, too.

 

Dean savored the coffee slowly and thinking a bit more clearly, made his way down to the engine room, but not the main one which housed the propulsion machinery spaces of the vessel. To increase the ship's safety and chances of surviving damage, the necessary machinery for operations was segregated into various compartments.

Dean headed for one of the forward and aft engine rooms, number 5 to be exact, which as a Rate 1 Mechanical Engineer, was sort of his base of operations. Before his departure, he had made sure to store most of his tools, designs and research here. Keeping only the highly sensitive materials in his personal crates, which had been shipped to his cabin and then a few huge containers with raw materials which were stored in the ship's hold.

 

Gratified that at least his access code and wristband had allowed him entrance to his own fucking workspace, he strode inside, the coffee giving him some energy and a sense of confidence that he didn't truly feel, but hey, that was what 'fake it til you make it' was all about and right now, a plan was beginning to form.

 

He had to remember that this was his job, this was what he did for a living. He solved problems, and currently, he had a pretty damn big one on his hands. But just because he was alone, didn't mean he had to fall apart, he could fix this, he _would fix this_.

 

In the center of the room was a large table, the top of which was a built-in screen that showed the layout of the ship and could pull up the blueprints and schematics at the touch of a finger, plus closed circuit footage of all the public, common areas of the ship, but that wasn't what he was looking for at the moment.

 

Instead he crossed to the far wall, pressing a button to reveal the compartments within. The doors opened outward, exposing large shelves that held the manuals for virtually everything on the ship.

 

Yahtzee!

 

Many of the tools he had worked with daily were hung up on the insides of the doors, but he ignored them for now, as he eagerly picked through the manuals.

 

There was one for the Medical AutoDoc, Tech Support, Observatory, Messaging & Communications, even one for the Bar Service Model, which he snorted at. Maybe he could switch Balthazar out for a hot, omega bartender babe. Finally, he found what he was looking for, the Hibernation Pod manual.

 

Tucking it under his arm and chugging down the rest of his coffee, he moved farther down the wall, punching in his code and waving his wrist again to open another compartment and he made quick work of pulling out a toolbelt, a pair of coveralls and a few other things he thought he might need along the way.

 

Suiting up, he rode the gravity-free elevator down to the ship's hold and thankfully, his code and wristband granted him access to one of the dinky maintenance vehicles that made getting around a ship this big a hell of a lot easier. Driving down deeper into the belly of the _Impala,_ he arrived at the storage containers and was pleased to see all his things intact and undisturbed. He pulled out his toolbox and a few odds and ends before stowing it all in the glorified go-cart and then made a detour back up to his cabin to grab the thin sleep clothes he had woken up from hibernation in.

 

His plan was simple. Take the pod apart, find out what the fuck was wrong with it, fix the damn thing, get back inside and go back to sleep. End of story. He'd wake up in 90 years like he should have done with everyone else, land on New Hope IV, and he and Sammy would have a good laugh over this whole snafu.

 

Using a small hand-held holographic tablet to navigate, he was able to locate his pod again and set to work immediately dismantling it, following the directions in the manual to gain access to the control panel. There was an option for resetting the hibernation pod and Dean fist-pumped in triumph after reading it.

 

Shoving his gear to the side, he stripped out of his coveralls and shimmied into the grey shorts and tank shirt he'd previously woken up in. Clamping the appropriate wires, and selecting the reset mode, he held his breath in anticipation, watching as the pod came to life, the touch screen lighting up and the plexi-glass doors opening as though welcoming him back.

 

Giddy with relief and excitement, Dean quickly clambered into the pod, flopping onto his back and wiggling down til he was settled. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the doors slid shut over him and waited for hibernation to kick in.

 

A minute's worth of seconds passed.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Quirking an eyebrow and cracking one eye open, he glanced around. It wasn't working.

 

Something must be wrong.

 

Dean pushed against the plexiglass doors, but they didn't budge and he fought down the wave of panic that threatened to overtake him, shoving at the doors with all his might. Finally, after pushing as hard as he could with his arms and legs, the doors relented with a regulated hiss and Dean scrambled out, panting with exertion and a newfound fear of tight, enclosed, airless spaces.

 

Well, that had not gone as expected.

 

Thinking back, Dean tried to remember what the procedure had entailed at the hibernation facility. It had been a rather involved process, with lots of drugs and monitoring of vitals before they actually put him under, as he recalled now, realizing that it had been shortsighted of him to think he could just crawl back into the pod and resume hibernation, easy as pie.

 

Not to mention that he hadn't even checked to see if his pod was still functional really, he'd gotten so obsessed with just getting it reset that he'd bypassed the tiny detail of the pod's operational faculties, since something must have caused it to crap out and wake him up 90 years early. With that thought, he began running a diagnostic check on the pod. It didn't take long to see why it had failed.

 

The pod itself was still perfectly good. However, the clock chip that governed the length of suspended animation had burnt out after only 30 years.

 

Which was some unbelievable bullshit, considering that these particular computer chips had a certified lifetime guarantee of 300 years, so this little defect was unprecedented, in fact, Dean was pretty sure he had the first pod failure in history on his hands here. Well, wasn't that just peachy?

 

Balthazar had been correct when he said that the pods were fail-safe and never malfunctioned, so the fact that Dean's had, led his mind into some dark places. He took a closer look at the chip under a magnification scope, where he discovered that there was a tiny flaw in the coating substructure of the wrist processor that had caused it to overheat and burn itself out.

 

And there was no replacing it either. There was no prior history of impairment with these chips, so there was no contingency plan or spare chips to be found aboard the ship. Why pack spare parts for something that had been so copiously proven to be infallible? Which, in turn, was just arrogant human thinking, everything man-made was fallible under the right circumstances and given enough time.

 

Yet another oversight, but now that his mind had traveled down that path, Dean couldn't help but wonder if something more sinister was at work here.

 

Like sabotage, maybe.

 

It was just a little _too_ damn coincidental that _his_ pod's chip should burn out, when no one else's in the history of _ever,_ had. And maybe he was coming across as paranoid, but it wasn't paranoia if they really were out to get you, was it? After all, 'accidents' like this didn't just happen _accidentally_ , there had to be a puppet master behind this and there was only one person who had motive and means that Dean had been on the outs with before his departure.

 

The more Dean thought about it, the more he couldn't get the cold, dead eyes and calculating, reptilian smile of Dick Roman out of his head. The uneasiness he'd felt as the man's clammy palm had gripped his as he'd wished Dean all the luck in the world on his new life and a safe flight. That smug look, like even though Dean was leaving, Dick knew he'd still won somehow. And even though Roman's sudden shift to congeniality had put Dean on edge, he hadn't questioned it like he should have, impatience and relief at finally getting to escape the shithole Earth had become and rejoin Sam and Jess winning out over his gut instinct that had taught him, in life when something goes smoothly, there was always a catch. No such thing as a free lunch, Bobby would say.

 

It seemed all too suspect now how easily Roman had let him go and so generously too, as though he was aware that Dean would never get to use the small fortune Roman had gifted him. Dean had been threatening to quit for six months previously due to what HR diplomatically termed as 'creative differences,' before he finally resigned. With Roman trying to block him at every turn, more than unwilling to let one of his top engineers escape with all the knowledge and company secrets that Dean possessed. Industrial espionage and corporate backstabbing were more prevalent than ever, a shark-eat-shark world (as Roman liked to say), and Dick Roman would do anything to secure his position at the top and it was looking more and more like he had, and all at Dean's very personal expense.

 

It certainly wouldn't have been difficult for someone like Roman to orchestrate. After all, his flunkies had arranged every detail of Dean's flight itinerary, it would have been a piece of cake to switch out the perfectly good clock chip for a defective one and no one, especially not Dean, would have been the wiser. However, none of this deductive thought process made him feel any better; the why and how of his predicament didn't really matter, what was important now was what he intended to do about it, but for the moment he was drawing a blank.

 

Unsure of what to do next, he reassembled his pod, packed up his tools and headed to the bar to think things over with another bout of whiskey-fueled brainstorming and robot badgering.

 

 

Day 4~

 

 

Hungover, but mostly just from the whiskey this time, Dean rose to greet the morning and prepared to implement the plan he had decided on somewhere in the middle of the bottle of ol' Johnnie Blue last night. After wrestling with the food simulator and once more being denied any fancy coffee or decent breakfast goods, he settled for his large french roast and some dry toast and made his way to the crew hibernation pod quarters, his thought being that perhaps he could wake the captain or someone who could help solve his situation.

 

Flashing his wrist at a door which strongly reminded Dean of a bank vault, he was informed by a cool female voice that, “Crew pod quarters access requires special authorization.”

 

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, I have some very special authorization for you!” Dean grinned wickedly, already aware that his access code would be turned down without even trying.

 

Instead, he dug around in the large canvas duffel he'd brought down with him and pulled out a sizable sledgehammer and hefting it up into a comfortable grip, took a swing at the fortified door. He landed blows against it with a stream of grunting and swearing for a good half hour that did little to make much of a dent in the door, but greatly helped him work out a lot of the aggression he was currently stewing in.

 

Admitting defeat, next he pulled out his laser drill press, hoping to cut through, but the door was too thick and solid. He even gave his plasma torch a try, but no dice. Using his high-torque pneumatic drill he attempted to crack the control panel and short-circuit the door into opening, but again failed in this endeavor as well. He couldn't really say he was surprised, he and Bobby had seen to the upkeep and upgrades of the _Impala_ , ensuring that she had the latest in state-of-the-art navigational tech and security, she was built like a goddamned brick shithouse and Dean couldn't help but be impressed by the craftsmanship, while also cursing it for being so friggin' impenetrable.

 

Still, he spent several days, dragging out every single tool he'd brought with him, not to mention a few other handy-dandy devices he'd found in the ship's hold. Trying to break in to both the crew pod quarters and the bridge, both with no results, getting angrier and more resigned by the hour, but feeling like he at least had to _try_ , had to do _something_.

 

Meanwhile, unseen and unheard in the command ring, sensors were beeping steadily, reporting critical errors and transport control failure.

 

Elsewhere in the ship, as Dean alighted from the gravity-free elevator, it wasn't until he was walking away from it that the doors clanged shut unevenly, the cool female voice distorted as she announced the Grand Concourse. The automated voice glitching out and stuttering for a few seconds, lights flickering on and off, before pausing and resetting, only for the doors to slide smoothly shut.

 

Dean stared at the elevator with cautious curiosity for a few moments, but it seemed fine now, so shaking off his concern he made his way to the bar where a well-deserved bottle of whiskey and snarky android awaited him.

 

 

Day 10~

 

 

“I'm screwed, Balthazar,” Dean moaned morosely into his nearly empty tumbler of whiskey. “Completely and totally fucking screwed and _not_ in the good way.”

 

He rubbed his knuckles against the peach fuzz that was coming in quite nicely since he couldn't be bothered to shave and wordlessly held out his glass for a refill, shaking it so that the last few stray droplets sprayed out onto the bar top.

 

“Oh, come now, quit your belly-aching. Every cloud has a silver lining!” Balthazar admonished, dutifully pouring out a few more fingers of whiskey into Dean's outstretched glass, before zipping down to the other end of the bar for a clean cloth.

 

“Yeah? What's the silver lining in this shitstorm? That I die of old age on this ship instead of getting hit by a hover-bus tomorrow? That the kind of silver lining you're talking about? Cause, I gotta say, I don't really see the appeal right now.” Dean guzzled his whiskey and glared at the bartender.

 

Balthazar only stared back at him mildly. “Oh, we all have to die sometime, even high-functioning androids such as myself end up on the scrap heap eventually,” he chuckled self-deprecatingly.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “Dude, I'm your only customer, why are you always either polishing a glass or wiping down the bar? You got OCD or some shit?”

 

Balthazar glanced down at the glass and soft cloth in his hands as though surprised to find them there, but then shrugged lackadaisically. “Trick of the trade and my programming, I suppose. Wouldn't it make you uncomfortable if I just stood there with nothing to do?”

 

Dean shrugged back in much the same manner. “I dunno...alright, well, show me a trick of your trade then, lay down some bartender wisdom on me. I'm literally lost in space here,” Dean chortled into his whiskey, looking over at Balthazar expectantly.

 

Balthazar whirred down to Dean's end of the bar, leaning against it and considering him carefully. “You're not where you want to be. You feel like you're supposed to be somewhere else.”

 

Dean gazed at him wide-eyed for a few seconds before snorting out a giggle. “No shit, Sherlock!”

 

Balthazar just nodded knowingly. “Say you could snap your fingers and be, wherever you wanted to be, hmm? I bet you'd still feel this way. Not in the right place, lost, as you said.”

 

Dean looked at him flatly, unwilling to admit to anything. “And, so? What's your point?”

 

“My point is, you can't get so bloody hung up on where you'd rather be, that you forget to make the most of where you are.” Balthazar answered, eyeing him shrewdly.

 

Dean rocked back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his chin and swirling the remaining whiskey around in his glass while he contemplated the bartender's words.

 

“Okay, say you're right, what exactly are you telling me?”

 

“Take a break from worrying about what you can't control. From what you've told me, I'd guess you've exhausted all avenues of action as to what to do in your situation, have you not?” Balthazar prodded.

 

Dean shifted in discomfort, hesitating. To say yes, would mean he had given up and he wasn't ready to give up just yet, he was a Winchester, dammit, and Winchesters always found a way! Not forgetting that he was also a damn good mechanical engineer, he'd think of something, after all, he had the time. As it stood, he had tried everything he could think of, so far, but he kept coming up dry at every turn.

 

So instead of answering affirmatively, Dean evaded. “I've done all I can do for now, doesn't mean I won't think of something else down the line.”

 

Balthazar inclined his head approvingly. “Alright, then, I'd say you've earned it, so, live a little.”

 

Dean huffed out a small laugh. “Live a little, huh?”

 

 

Day 12~

 

 

Dean grunted as he used the crowbar to leverage his weight against the doors, hoping to pry them open, but to no avail. So putting to use the hacker skills his good friend Charlie had taught him, paired with the valuable art of hot-wiring that his dad had passed on to him, he accessed the control panel and reformatted it to respond to his wristband and personal code.

 

If only the bridge and crew quarters had been so easy to break into! Though, of course he knew that important locations, such as the command ring, had extra enhanced security so that they could not be breached in case of a hijacking. As crazy as it sounded, space pirates were still a very real danger. Less important locations, such as suites like this one, had less advanced security, which made it easier for Dean to hack in, thank god.

 

Charlie, the self-proclaimed Queen of Moons, had designed and helped implement the technology herself and then Ash had attempted to break it down and had managed, but only just barely, and the two of them had to number amongst the top twenty geniuses in the known worlds, so Dean knew he was screwed. He was smart, but not _that_ damn smart! Charlie had made a home for herself on Moondor, one of the dwarf planets not very far from Earth and Dean had lost track of Ash, who liked to planet hop as much as he used to couch-surf back on Earth.

 

Dean had considered attempting to message them, but knew it would never reach the intended parties in time to do him any good. But maybe he should, just to at least say goodbye, if nothing else. He had thought of messaging Sam, too, but soon realized that since he'd woken up early, it also meant that Sam and Jess were blissfully still asleep, only 32 years or so into their journey aboard the _Persephone_. What was worse? His brother never knowing what had happened to Dean and wondering why he never showed up like he had promised? Or, waking up to a message that by the time he had read it Dean would have already been dead for years? They both sounded like horrible outcomes, so Dean had just shoved the issue to the back of his mind for now.

 

With a whoosh, the doors opened, the lights flickered on and Dean stepped inside and was immediately greeted by a cool female voice that sounded like Tessa. “Welcome to the Vienna Deluxe Suite! Please enjoy your stay.”

 

Laughing, he spun around in a circle, taking it all in.

 

This place was unreal!

 

Compared to his cabin, this place was downright palatial and Dean gazed about in satisfaction. “Oh yeah, that's more like it!”

 

He was taking Balthazar's advice to heart; if he was gonna be here awhile and he could manage it, he might as well enjoy the finer things in life, it wasn't like there was anything better to do. After all, it wasn't like he didn't have practice; he'd spent the majority of his life making the best of a bad situation, it may as well be second nature to him by now.

 

The Vienna Deluxe Suite had been designed with the penthouse loft apartments of New York back in its heyday in mind, but paired with much more modern, classy décor, with clean lines and a wide, open floor plan.

 

The massive California King with memory foam, that nearly made Dean cry in fond recollection of his old bed, was in the spacious loft alcove; a large window to the side of the bed showing not the starry landscape actually outside, but rather, a holographic scene that could be programmed to display any setting, from forests, to beaches, to the desert, whatever you were in the mood for.

 

Stairs spiraled gracefully down to the main floor that boasted delicate, lattice-worked folding screens delineating the different rooms in place of solid walls. There was a full kitchen, with automated everything and a cozy nook with a window seat and long glass dining table. A frankly, ridiculously elaborate chandelier hung down from the ceiling, dripping with crystal prisms. However, the crowning glory had to be the bathroom, with a sunken Jacuzzi tub large enough to fit four adults comfortably, and a walk in shower that was equally spacious.

 

The color scheme was mostly shades of blue and grey with accents of white and silver and weird abstract shit hung up everywhere, that did nothing for Dean, but was supposedly fashionable. One whole wall was the television with built in surround sound and Dean looked forward to watching all his favorite old movies sprawled out on the huge, comfy looking sectional that was parked in front of it.

 

He used one of the big hover-dollies to cart all his stuff into his new quarters, setting up his record player and putting on Led Zep IV, rocking out to 'Black Dog' as he unpacked his belongings, singing at the top of his lungs because no one was there to give him shit about it.

 

“Hey, hey mama said the way you move, gon' make you sweat, gon' make you groove!” Dean shimmied his hips a little, taking immense joy in hearing some of his favorite music, it was like hanging out with an old friend and somehow made him feel less alone.

 

This joint was nicer and a helluva a lot bigger than his old apartment back on Earth had been; he'd made damn good money working at Roman Enterprises but the cost of living was so astronomical that you had to be nothing short of a millionaire to afford a place this swanky and Dean'd had better things to spend his money on than ritzy apartments.

 

Sam had moved in with Jess before they even got mated, during their first year of college, so getting a big place for just two people when he was rarely ever there hadn't made sense to him. Bobby had been happier than a pig in shit living in the small two-story house that was on the same property as his scrapyard. And his dad, well, John had been so out of it for the last couple years before his death that Dean had finally conceded to the well-intentioned advice of Sam and Bobby and hired live-in care. He'd spent any time that he wasn't at work, which wasn't all that much, taking care of John, trying to be there for him, even though his dad had been unaware most of the time, lost in a haze of alcohol and memories, pining for the other half of his heart.

 

Dean found it hard to take things for himself, it was part of his alpha nature to put himself last, always looking out for the comfort of those he loved first. But now he did his best to make this new space cozy, positioning his two guitars on the wall, one electric and one acoustic. Hanging some of the few photos he had of himself as a child with his mother right next to his bed, along with many pictures of his family and friends and generally just spreading his things around to make it look more lived in.

 

Ascending the stairs up to the loft, he made a running leap and landed on the enormous bed with a whoop, stretching out like a starfish, reveling in the softness. He pressed his face into the memory foam mattress, making an indentation and giggling like a five year old.

 

“Memory foam! It remembers me!” Dean could just imagine Sam rolling his eyes at him, but didn't care, the bed felt too damn good.

 

 

Day 13~

 

 

Hollering at the top of his lungs, Dean careened around the hallways in one of the rinky-dink maintenance vehicles, trying to get the little floor robots to race him down the corridor.

Sure, this piece of junk was hardly better than a golf cart and would never compare to his Baby, but it was still fun anyways.

 

 

Day 14~

 

 

With a swish, Dean slam-dunked the basketball, pumping his fist with a loud victory cry. Virtual cheerleaders rallied him on over the loudspeaker and he grinned. Baseball and golf were really more his speed, but with a little practice, he could get good at this, too. After all, he had the time.

Maybe there were still some good things to be had in life, yeah he was alone, but it didn't have to be all bad, right?

Fucking right.

 

 

Day 17~

 

 

Since he had the luxury, Dean ate out at a different virtual restaurant every night, Japanese, Italian, Mexican, Chinese, whatever he had a craving for, ordering everything on the menu if he felt like it.

The great thing about being stuck on what basically amounted to a cruise ship in space, or if you really wanted to get down to brass tacks, essentially a glorified shopping mall, was that the options were endless.

 

 

Day 21~

 

 

“Hmm...'Dance-Your-Ass-Off', huh? Well, alrighty then!”

Dean had always been of the mind that you should try anything at least once, well, maybe not murder or drugs, but most things.

He stepped up onto the raised, glowing dais and positioned himself, waving his wristband at the control panel to begin the sequence.

“Let's dance!”

 

 

Day 33~

 

 

Flipping out the lights and pulling the giant bowl of popcorn into his lap, Dean settled back into the squashy depths of his couch as the opening crawl of 'Empire Strikes Back' scrolled across the wall-screen TV.

Dean smiled bittersweetly to himself, trying not to remember the last time he'd watched this movie, with Sam, Jess, Ash and Charlie all chattering around him, fighting over snacks and quoting all the dialogue word for word.

There was nothing like the classics.

 

 

Day 46~

 

 

Dean scratched idly at the full-fledged mountain man beard he was letting grow purely out of curiosity just to see if he could.

Drunkenly, he flagged down his robot waiter. “Uno mas margarita, por favor!”

The little robot waiter sped over to him. “You have had many, senor!” It chided him in a modulated Spanish accent.

“Oh Hector, por favor, otra vez!” Dean pleaded, making puppy dog eyes at the robot. Yes, he was well on his way to naming all the little bots on board.

“Si, senor,” the robot conceded, zipping off to fix his drink.

“Gracias!” He called out after it.

 

 

Day 55~

 

 

Standing well beyond center court, Dean turned his back and closed his eyes, tossing the basketball high over his head behind him.

The sudden chorus of virtual cheerleaders chanting “Oh yeah!” let him know he'd made the shot.

He waved his arms in the air and totally didn't care.

“Whoo-hoo. And the crowd goes wild.” He intoned flatly.

 

 

Day 69~

 

 

Dean hunched over the table, shoveling off-brand Cheerios into his mouth with lackluster abandon, getting most of it in his beard.

Try as he might, he'd been unable to hack the food simulator and force it to give him Gold-Class passenger food privileges. Then the damn thing had glitched up on him this morning and wouldn't even give him his damn french roast. He had half a mind to take a crowbar to it and see if a little percussion therapy made it change its tune.

Stupid piece of shit.

 

 

Day 77~

 

 

One of the little floor-cleaning robots bumped against his foot and Dean nearly jumped a mile from where he'd apparently been spacing out, his bran muffin sitting uneaten in front of him on the table.

Irrational anger burning through him, he kicked out at it and screamed at the little machine. “Get the fuck out of here!”

With a mechanical whine, the little robot darted away from him, joining up with its fellows across the room.

Just as quickly as the anger had spiked through him, it was canceled out by regret. Poor little fuckers. They were just trying to do their job, it wasn't their fault they weren't the greatest of company and that Dean was in a shitty mood.

Making kissy noises at the gaggle of robots, he started shredding his muffin into crumbs and scattered them on the floor like he was trying to feed ducks or some shit.

“Come back! Hey, c'mere buddy. That's right, c'mere, I didn't mean to yell at you,” Dean coaxed softly, tossing out more muffin crumbs in both apology and invitation.

Unable to resist, a couple of little robots peeled off from the rest, scooting timidly back towards him to gather up the wayward crumbs and Dean smiled wanly.

 

 

Day 84~

 

 

Naked, Dean floated face-down in the Olympic-sized swimming pool, holding his breath and wondered how hard it might be to drown himself.

Wondered how long it might take before his body's natural preservation instincts kicked in if he just opened his mouth and let the water rush in, collecting in his lungs, invading him, dragging him down like a stone.

Pondered how long it would take his body to rot and decompose in this sterile environment, or if maybe the robots would come along and haul his waterlogged carcass out of the water, cleaning up as efficiently as ever.

 

 

Day 99~

 

 

It turned out there was no linear timeline when it came to grief.

Dean was in mourning, grieving for the life that slowly, he was realizing was truly lost to him now.

From day-to-day, he vacillated between bouts of denial, anger, and depression.

He knew there were five stages of grief, but he'd always been a sucker for the classics.

As it was, denial a;ways had been, and would always be, a Winchester staple of Life 101, so he was good there.

Bargaining was pointless when you were isolated. There was no one to rail against but yourself, which got old quick. Being in space didn't make God seem any closer or any more real than he had back on Earth. As far as Dean was concerned, God had left the building long ago, like a rat fleeing a sinking ship.

Acceptance seemed to elude him. He was too steeped in denial, resignation was about as close as he got. But it was anger and depression that seemed equally determined to try and tear him in half, like two dogs fighting over a scrap of meat.

Dean had always been someone who had never talked about his feelings; he'd been accused of having none before, but the opposite was true, he had an abundance and when they made themselves known, he'd always identified them, then shoved them back down in the deepest part of himself, back where they belonged, always too concerned with being _alpha_ , with being strong for everyone else.

He felt caged within the framework of his emotions, resisting the adjustment his brain was attempting, trying to learn to live with a loss that was largely undefinable; he hadn't lost a person, or maybe he had.

He'd lost himself, hadn't he?

Lost everything and everyone he'd ever loved.

Some days he woke up and didn't remember immediately where he was or what his life was now, those days were bad, but there were worse ones where he drifted awake with tears already in his eyes, the edge of a memory slipping away into the ether.

 

 

 

Day 117~

 

 

The day came and went when Dean realized he could neither taste nor scent anything, he hadn't had a rut since he'd woken up, and his alpha hindbrain was weak and silent, having mercifully become null.

It was _almost_ a relief.

Just one less thing to remind him of all he'd lost out on.

 

 

 

Day 125~

 

 

Occasionally, when he had the energy, he'd spend a few rage-fueled hours with the punching bag in the full-service gym, or down at the bridge or crew pod room. Angrily swinging away til his vision was obscured by sweat and tears, only to drag himself listlessly back to his suite, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep on his memory foam mattress, which was the only thing that remembered him anymore.

 

 

Day 138~

 

 

As he soon found, time was meaningless out here. Logically, he knew he'd only been awake for a mere four months or so, but it might as well have been 40 years with the way the days seemed to move like thick molasses, oozing by, melting into each other.

With a leaden arm, Dean reached out and grabbed the black Sharpie marker from his night table and made another line on the wall above his head. Sometimes he didn't know what the point of keeping track of the days was, but a small voice in his mind whispered that it was so he didn't lose his grasp on reality and go insane.

Staring up at the numerous black lines in groups of five counting down his life mockingly, he wondered if insanity wouldn't be easier.

After all, ignorance was bliss, wasn't it?

He thought about going down to the bar and getting a drink, fleetingly wondered what Balthazar got up to all day, if he just stood there polishing the same glass over and over again, waiting for Dean to come down and engage him.

Sighing heavily, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

 

 

 

Day 144~

 

 

 

The horrible thing about being trapped in a glorified shopping mall was that the options were not, in fact, endless, after all, as he'd originally thought, and much sooner than he'd anticipated, Dean had run out of things to do, or more accurately, lost the will to be interested.

Dean wandered the halls of the ship dully, a ghost that had yet to give itself up, not alive, not dead, trapped in the limbo of Purgatory, his own agonizing little slice of hell. Made up of a world populated with vapid, superficial, artificial pleasures that long ago had lost their luster in his eyes, serving only to highlight his empty, shallow existence.

He vaguely remembered, as though recalling the qualities of another person who was now a stranger (not him) that once upon a time, he'd been a rather social creature, loved throwing parties and entertaining his small group of friends and family, his alpha reveling contentedly in the simple joy of having all his favorite people together in one place where he could dote on them.

Now, his solitude consumed him, swallowed him whole.

 

 

 

Day 152~

 

 

 

Slumping bonelessly against the shower wall, Dean let the spray beat down on him relentlessly. Tiredly, he worked a handful of shampoo haphazardly into his hair, which was reaching Sam-like lengths, nearly to his shoulders.

He tipped his head to rinse the shampoo out, not bothering with conditioner, leaning his cheek against the cool wall and trying not to cry at the thought of the little brother he'd never see again.

God, he'd give anything to hassle Sammy about his girlish tresses, to threaten him with clippers and receive an infamous bitchface in return.

Impassively, he dragged a soapy washcloth over himself in a half-hearted attempt to rub away the buildup of grime that days without showering had accumulated.

He glanced down at his dick, which hung limply between his legs, not bothering to perk up in the warm water like it once had. Dean didn't even remember the last time he'd jerked off or gotten aroused, had forgotten how it even felt to pop a knot or go into rut. And frankly, he didn't care if he ever did again, resigned to the inevitability that every sense of who he had been was slipping away, sliding through his fingers like sand.

 

 

Day 167~

 

 

Dean lay on his side, cheek smashed into his pillow, staring blankly at the holographic window which was set to ocean waves crashing against some unknown shore, Oregon or California maybe. He didn't know, didn't care, had never been.

It was beautiful, he thought distantly, nothing like what the oceans had actually looked like when he'd left Earth. The oceans had slowly started shrinking into diseased cesspools, humanity having one time too many used them as garbage disposals.

Hypnotized by the motion of the waves, he longed to throw himself into them and be purified, to be smashed into billions of atoms and never feel a damn thing again. His memories dispersed, all traces of him gone as though he'd never existed.

 

 

Day 171~

 

 

“Say you'll see me again...Even if it's just pretend...Say you'll remember me...even if it's just in your wildest dreams...”

Mouthing along to 'Wildest Dreams', he became aware that shame was a distant, useless concept, meant for those with purpose in their lives, who valued their dignity. Dean did not count himself among those numbers as he felt tears trickle down his cheeks, sliding into his ears, tickling gently.

The old Dean would never have been caught dead crying in bed over a Taylor Swift song. This current version of Dean couldn't care less. Life was much less complicated when you didn't give a shit what anyone thought of you and it was made doubly easier when there was actually no one there to pass judgment.

Fucking Sam must've thought he was hilarious, sneaking two of her albums onto Dean's iPod before he left.

Well, the joke was on him, cuz that girl mighta been dead for decades, but dammit all, her songs still held up.

 

 

Day 186~

 

 

Laying on his back, Dean stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, the bedding an absolute mess, filthy and stained, surrounded by a few half-eaten and empty food containers, days old, that were beginning to succumb to Darwinism.

He hadn't left his bed in days, barely moving to relieve himself and eating rarely.

If he lifted his shirt, he could clearly count his ribs, his skin waxen and translucent. Freckles standing out in stark relief, looking more like old age spots than like 'angel kisses', which was what his mother used to tell him they were.

Every night before bed, she always told him angels were watching over him.

Dean abruptly burst into tears at the thought of his mother.

God, he missed her.

 

 

Day 202~

 

 

Dean meandered drunkenly down the hall, butt-ass naked except for the arms of his grey robe tied around his neck like a cape.

He'd taken to calling it his “dead guy robe.”

God, he cracked himself up sometimes...well, he was laughing on the inside at least.

 

 

Day 219~

 

 

He went on a clothing and hunger strike, because, why not?

 

 

Day 243~

 

 

In a pair of boxers so loose they scarcely clung to his hips, Dean strolled aimlessly down the long aisles of his peacefully sleeping fellow passengers, a nearly empty bottle of tequila that he had liberated from his own stores barely dangling from his numb fingertips, hardly glancing at their placid faces as he passed.

He staggered to a halt, tipping his head back and upending the tequila bottle into his mouth as though it were water. It may as well be, he couldn't taste a damn thing anyways.

Anger suddenly gripped him and he screamed long and hard until he was sure he felt a blood vessel pop, chucking the depleted bottle as forcefully as he could away from himself.

It hit the floor with a bounce, but didn't shatter, rolling out of sight.

Dean trudged onwards. He didn't come down here very often, it hurt too much to see his own uninhabited pod, let alone those of the other passengers, rows upon rows, full of quiet, tranquil people dreaming serenely of the life to come that had been so cruelly snatched away from him.

Stumbling on blindly, Dean rounded a corner and was faintly surprised to see another huge, bank vault-like door. He was even more surprised when it opened swiftly at his approach with minimal prompting on his part.

Tottering in unsteadily, he stared around at all the space suits neatly lined up, his mind blanking for a moment as to what they were for, but he was saved by the usual cool female voice.

“Welcome, Dean. Please turn your attention to the screens displaying safety tips for the Skywalk. These space suits are designed to withstand the harsh environment of space...”

Floor length wall screens depicted how to put on and remove the space suits properly and Dean gazed raptly at them, the voice droning on in the background.

“...The carbon fiber and polyamide construction means your suit is both flexible and durable...”

Dean's hearing faded out as he drifted closer and closer to the nearest suit, til he was chest to chest with it and crowding in, he rested his head on the shoulder of the suit like it was another person, lacing the gloved fingers together with his own in a pathetic parody of hand-holding.

God, he missed hugs...and just...human contact in general. Humans were tactile creatures, made to touch and be touched.

A memory surfaced and he hiccoughed a laugh wetly, God, if Sam could see him right now he'd give him so much shit.

When they were little, Dean had been unreasonably attached to this one t-shirt his mother had bought him. It was a pale blue number with a cuddly-looking teddy bear on the front and the words, “I WUV HUGS” emblazoned across the top. Dean had worn it everywhere, worn it until it was ridiculously tiny on him. His mom had tried to get him to pass it along down to Sam but Dean resisted, squirreling it away in the back of a drawer, something just for him.

Every now and then, Sam had brought it up, particularly when Dean was having a bout of extra manly male alpha-ness, usually during his rut or when he was close to it, just his little brother's way of reminding him what a hug-loving softy he was underneath that tough as nails exterior.

Shit, he didn't even know what had become of that old shirt, it was probably silly to hope that he still had it hidden away somewhere, but he couldn't really remember anymore.

Gently, Dean tightened his other arm around the shoulder of the suit, hugging it awkwardly. God, what he wouldn't do for a hug from a real, live person right this instant.

But beggars couldn't be choosers and so he snuggled in tight and tried to imagine that this inanimate suit was actually a flesh and blood human.

He stood there for awhile, just zoning out, until the safety tips lady started yammering away again.

“Remember, your spacesuit is your lifeline!”

Dean drew back and stared fixedly at the suit he'd been clinging to like a baby koala.

Why the hell not?

Lurching over to the control panel, he swiped his wristband and slapped his palm against the screen to unlock the suit and begin the process of donning it.

Ten minutes later found Dean snugly encapsulated and he carefully screwed his helmet on, feeling more awake than he had in months.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Sam's in the back of his mind was chastising him about how foolish and dangerous it was to go do something like this while drunk as a skunk, but Dean brushed it off somewhat guiltily.

Shaking his head to clear it further of the tequila-induced haze, he paid strict attention to the safety instructions for the skywalk, before making his way over to a long, circular metal chute tube. Stepping inside, the hatch whisked shut behind him and the safety lady spoke up once more.

“Slide the handle on the right to release the air pressure.”

Dean grasped the handle firmly and pulled down til the light went from red to green.

“Your magnetic boots are now engaged. They can be deactivated using the control panel on your arm.”

Glancing to his right arm he saw a small screen that informed him of when the boots were active or disengaged and also let him know the status of his suit pressure and safety tether and how to activate the beacon for assistance.

“Press the red button to open the airlock door.”

Dean did as instructed; the airlock door whooshed open and suddenly the vast, sucking vacuum of space was upon him, his magnetized boots and tether the only things keeping him upright. Just as quickly, silence reigned as the airlock closed smoothly behind him and awestruck, Dean walked to the very edge of the narrow shelf that made up the docking bay, feeling very small indeed.

He gazed down, up and to the sides, nothing but an ocean of stars and far away galaxies blinking back at him dispassionately.

As though on auto-pilot, his fingers drifted to the control panel on his arm, easily disengaging the magnetic boots and with a single step, he dropped over the edge, into the abyss.

One moment he was stationary, the next, he was soaring gracefully, like a bird in flight, unencumbered, lightly kicking his legs as though treading water.

For a glorious span of time, Dean was free, able to forget everything else that had come and gone, there was only this borrowed latitude.

As someone who was, to put it lightly, _not_ a fan of flying, Dean found this experience to be quite enjoyable, as least in a numb, out-of-body-kind of way.

He held on to the intangible feeling for as long as he could, but it didn't last, couldn't last and and though he sailed unrestrained through space, he was still trapped, albeit in a colossally larger cage, yet a cage still the same.

He stretched out his hand, wanting to connect with _something_ , _someone_ , but grasped at nothing, for space was the epitome of nothing and he felt a tear slide down his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to meet the cold, dead stare of infinity any longer.

The tether fed out hundreds of yards of slack line, allowing Dean to float out into the void, but coming to an end eventually. Dean just hung there, staring into the chasm of time.

Perhaps this was the true face of God, a yawning maw, eternally ready to swallow whole anyone who wished it, never to be seen again.

With nothing left to do, he finally retracted the tether line, docilely letting it tow him back in to the ship.

Once back inside the airlock, he unscrewed his helmet and wearily doffed the space suit, wanting nothing more than to just go to sleep for awhile.

As he swiped his wristband to re-enter the main room where the rest of the space suits were, the cheerful voice of the safety tips lady piped on jarringly.

“Welcome back, Dean! We hope you decide to join us again soon for another thrilling experience!”

Her synthetically jovial tone grated against Dean's nerves and deep inside, he felt something in him, _snap_. Something that was important, but brittle and dry, like old twigs. In the tiny rational corner of his mind, he knew the voice was merely a simulation, not an actual person, who, in the face of his wretchedness, was still gaily going on about their day, ignoring his despair.

But still...for a moment, he imagined endlessly long years of no human contact, years of seeing nothing else but space and emotionless machines and he just...couldn't.

Couldn't do it anymore...couldn't bear another minute of this, let alone the rest of his life.

Slowly, as if he was underwater, he turned around, punched the airlock button and walked back into the chute tube, the hatch whispering shut behind him.

Dean curled his fingers around the handle to release the air pressure, pulling it down with a firm click and felt his ears pop at the drop.

As he did so, the encouraging voice came back on, unaware that he was in the tube without a space suit, inches from certain death.

“Have a wonderful time,” she sang out. Dean almost laughed at that, but knew if the noise had actually passed his lips it would have sounded more like an insane sob than true mirth.

His heartbeat was crashing crazily through his body, making him shake; he felt calm and terrified at the same time.

It was easy, all he had to do was press that red button, the airlock would open and he would be toast.

Dean could end this in one fell swoop.

His finger hovered over the button and he breathed in as deeply as he could.

One touch and he would be unconscious in fourteen seconds and whatever happened beyond that in the great Big Empty was going to be no concern of his, because that was something you did not come back from.

He stared hard at the airlock door, his finger on the button now, panting out harsh breaths as tears gathered in his eyes.

No one would ever know what had happened to him. His frozen corpse would just float out into space for eternity. There would be no clean up for the little bots aboard the ship. He would die and leave a mystery as his legacy, if anyone even cared that much about one missing mechanic, which was doubtful. 

He spared a moment of worry for Sam, but knew his brother would be okay without him, he had Jess and a whole new planet to explore. He would forget about Dean.

His breathing echoed loudly in his ears and his eyes burned; only a fingertip's worth of compression would be needed and he could be free...he could do it--

With a cry like a wounded animal, he slammed the handle that released the air pressure back up into the stop position and ran out of the tube like all the demons of hell were on his heels.

Dean would have kept running blindly until his body gave out, but as he passed through the space suit room and back out into the hibernation deck, he rounded the corner and tripped over his discarded tequila bottle from earlier and went flying through the air, skidding along the smooth surface only to crash into one of the pods. He ricocheted off the side of it and landed flat on his back with a heavy thud, getting the wind knocked out of him entirely with a pained gasp, as his head bounced roughly on the floor.

Dazed and confused, it took him a couple minutes to regroup and when he was able to breathe again, he gingerly rolled over to his side, not bothering to get up off the floor, instead just huddling in on himself, sobbing softly until, worn out, he slipped into a fitful slumber.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Dean awoke sometime later, aching all over, inside and out and lay staring vacantly at the ceiling until the earlier events of the day slowly filtered back in.

 

He had tried to kill himself.

 

He had failed.

 

He waited for the shame and self-hatred at such a cowardly act to swamp him, but he felt nothing, except maybe a bit of self-loathing over the fact that he couldn't even off himself properly, just another thing he'd fucked up at.

 

It wasn't an act of cowardice, it was mercy, and anyone who thought otherwise had never been in his same position and thus could make no judgment. It wasn't as though Dean was leaving behind anyone to mourn him, everyone he loved was lost to him, he was the only one left.

 

At any rate, he hadn't gone through with it and he was still here and all he wanted now, was his bed.

 

Groaning, he sat up and cautiously patted himself down; his parts all seemed to be in working order, nothing broken, merely bruised, though he might have sustained a mild concussion from bashing his head on the floor.

 

This theory was proven when he tried to stand and a wave of dizziness swept over him, forcing him back to the ground. Looking around for something to hold onto while he tried to get vertical, he realized he was only a few feet away from the pod he must have collided with. Scooting over to it, Dean grabbed on to one of the sturdy handles on the side, using it to leverage himself up until he was slumped heavily over the plexi-glass doors, woozy and breathless from pain and abruptly nauseous.

 

Dean shut his eyes tightly and took deep breaths for a few minutes before he was finally able to raise his head. Getting his hands underneath him, he lifted himself off the pod, glancing below as he did so and then stopped cold as he gazed down at the most beautiful face he'd ever seen in his life.

 

It was a man, possessed of a strong jaw dusted with stubble like coal dust that was only a few shades darker than his messy brown hair. He had a sharp, straight nose and high cheekbones, all set off by sweetly curving cheeks and a pink, full, absolutely lush mouth. His eyelashes cast long, dark shadows on his lightly tanned skin and Dean was suddenly desperate to know the color of the eyes hidden beneath them.

 

Leaning back a bit and blinking in disbelief, Dean thought he was suffering the effects of a massive tequila-induced hangover, because now, he was seeing double. He shook his head to clear his fuzzy vision, but no, there were still now _two_ of the same beautiful man.

 

What the fuck. Like, really, what the actual fuck?

 

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, Dean shuffled over til he could see the access panel and tapping on it, brought up the pod's occupant information.

 

Flashing up on the lid of the pod, the vital statistics proclaimed the men inside to be Castiel and James Novak, brothers, no, in fact, not just brothers, _twins_.

 

Well, that explained a lot!

 

Twenty-eight year old omega twins, originally from Pontiac, Illinois. Castiel was listed as a Class 1 Medical Doctor and James as an Investigative Journalist and Historian.

 

“Castiel.” Dean whispered, trying the strange name out. “James.” That sounded so formal and Dean wondered if anyone ever called the man Jimmy.

 

He stared for awhile longer, transfixed and content to just bask in the beauty of their long, lithe runner's bodies, before finally dragging himself away. But instead of heading for his suite, he made a detour, not realizing he was heading for the 'Passenger Affairs/Steward's Quarters' until he was already there, the doors automatically opening at his approach.

 

Plopping down at the desk with a wince, he waved his wrist to activate the touch screen and with a little creative hacking into the virtual Cloud Database, Dean was soon searching the passenger profiles, which contained biographical material for each person. The Cloud also contained locked files for each passenger. Before departure, everyone had uploaded any personal files and data they wished to bring with them, the Cloud allowing for endless storage space for things such as music, documents and pictures.

 

Files and video interviews that basically were the applications that everyone had been obligated to fill out to verify their eligibility, popped up for both men and Dean tapped on them eagerly, letting out a shaky breath when the viewer screen suddenly was filled with the twins, sitting side by side, vibrant and animated. His desperate wish to know the eye color of the gorgeous pair was summarily granted.

 

Blue. So damn blue they couldn't be real. Almost an irradiated shade of cerulean that reminded Dean of Superman's inhumanly blue eyes from the old digitized comics, the color leaping off the page at him through his 3-D comic book glasses.

 

The twin on the left wore a plain white, collared button-down with a backwards, badly knotted blue tie that only intensified the vivid blue of his eyes and from what Dean could tell, dark slacks completed the ensemble. His brother was decked out in a light blue, collared button-down, that also made his eyes pop, no tie and dark wash jeans.

 

Dean thought they were both breathtaking.

 

“I don't understand, why...why do you want me to say my name?” The first twin frowned at the camera in consternation, but his double laughed fondly and nudged him.

 

“Cas, it's for the interview, we introduce ourselves.” His brother tried to explain.

 

“But they already know who we are,” the first twin, Cas, protested. Cas. Dean liked it, it was a good nickname for Castiel.

 

Rolling his eyes, the second twin led by example. “My name is Jimmy Novak, Passenger 0919, I'm from Pontiac, Illinois and I'm a writer, well, a journalist. Oh, and a historian,” Jimmy smiled sunnily at the camera and glanced to his brother. “Okay, now it's your turn.”

 

Still looking mildly perplexed, Castiel obeyed. “I'm Castiel Novak, Passenger 0918, I'm also from Pontiac, Illinois and I'm a doctor.” Castiel side-eyed Jimmy as if seeking approval and his brother grinned at him.

 

“See, that wasn't so hard!”

 

Dean cracked his first smile in God's knows how long watching the two of them. Though identical, it was easy to tell them apart, it was obvious immediately that their differing personalities made them wholly individual, and as complementary to each other as day and night. Like two sides of the same coin. Dean was enraptured by their matching sapphire blue eyes, Castiel's intense and deep, while Jimmy's were sparkling and playful.

 

The closeness they obviously shared, made him ache, missing Sam quite viscerally. Dean watched as the interviewer asked them both to share a little about their professions.

 

“I think we tell each other stories to know we're not alone, to learn, to make contact. Life is about moving forward and as a journalist, I'm always looking to the future, looking for the next big story, but also as a historian, I study the past, I try to see the pattern of mistakes that humanity has made and try to shed some light on how we can do better, how we can avoid repeating the same actions that got us here in the first place.”

 

Castiel nodded along, agreeing with his brother, but was shy when the spotlight landed on him. “Umm...I always wanted to be a medical physician, the human body is a fascinating organism. After I finished my initial years of college and medical schooling--”

 

Jimmy jumped in here to brag. “He was one of the youngest people ever to graduate from college! He's basically a genius, but it's okay, because I got the looks!” Castiel had the strangest look on his face, annoyed, proud and a little shy, but also like he was trying not to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of his brother's comment.

 

Recovering his composure, he continued on as though he hadn't been interrupted. “My focus now has mainly been on Cytology, which is the study of the structure and function of cells, specifically how the cells react and change during hibernation, but I also did a two year course dealing with clinical laboratory science where I learned how to perform chemical, hematological, microscopic and various other diagnostic test analyses needed for the diagnosis of diseases.”

 

The interviewer must have looked a little confused, because Jimmy gave him a big, gummy smile that Dean felt himself just melting at, as the man slung an arm around his brother's shoulder. “Don't worry, when Cas gets nervous, he starts talking like a walking encyclopedia. I just smile and nod along.”

 

Cas shrugged the shoulder his brother's arm was draped over, dislodging him as he glared at Jimmy, who only beamed back innocently at him.

 

The interviewer attempted to keep them on track with another question. “So, your grandfather was Carver Edlund, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author, his most notable works were his essays on humanity and the _Supernatural_ book series and then your father, Chuck Shurley-Novak, was an esteemed cryo-geneticist, who contributed greatly to the original theory of human hibernation. Has that been a lot to live up to?”

 

“Ha! Yeah, no pressure there! Our grandpa used to say, 'If you live an ordinary life, all you'll have are ordinary stories; you have to live a life of adventure!' So, here we are! We felt that Earth was getting too crowded, too pedestrian, we wanted to explore new horizons and ideas and not have to bow to anyone's opinion of what or who we should be, so Cas and I decided to throw out the rule-book.”

 

Castiel had a smile on his face, small and secret as he looked over at his brother with deep affection. “We're making it up as we go.”

 

Dean paused the video feed on the image of the twins smiling at each other and just gazed at them, wishing that he had known them, that he could meet them. They were both so passionate, both in their own ways and together.

 

Rummaging around in the steward's desk drawers, he found a holo-tablet and downloaded all the interviews and passenger profile information on them to it and headed back to his room, where he curled up in bed and stayed up watching them all night. When he eventually passed out, he dreamed of blue eyes and happy laughter.

 

 

Day 244~

 

 

Dean woke up feeling somewhat hungover and sore, but also marginally more alive and certainly more motivated than he had in months. He actually showered and brushed his teeth, and though he wasn't up for shaving his beard off just yet, he did comb his overly long hair and tie it back as neatly as he could in what Sam would have dubbed a “man-bun.”

 

He pulled on a clean-ish t-shirt and a pair of boxers and layered his frankly, gross, dead guy robe on over it all, yeah, it needed a serious wash, or more likely to be salted, burned and blown out the airlock, but it was sort of his security blanket right now.

 

Dean was doing the best he could with what he had, and presently, the fact that he was up and dressed, mostly clean and not hiding in the bottom of a whiskey bottle would have to be enough for now. He couldn't promise that he wouldn't get so distraught again that he tried to off himself, but figured he'd just have to take things one day at a time, it wasn't like he had any other options.

 

Baby steps.

 

He thought of his failed attempt on his own life the day before and wondered at the timing, how right after that, he had stumbled across the twins. If Dean had been at all a religious man, he might have pondered the possibility of it being fate or divine intervention, but he wasn't, so he didn't, chalking it up instead to his own distraught state and drunken clumsiness.

 

Limping into the communal dining room, he collected a bowl of cereal and his large french roast without incident from the simulator and headed back to the passenger hibernation deck, unerringly finding his way to the twins easily.

 

Unfolding the camp chair he'd brought with him, Dean settled into it. “Good morning,” he said to them hoarsely, voice and throat sore and abused from screaming yesterday and then all the days of disuse before that.

 

The twins slept on, silent and serene as Dean ate his cereal and drank his coffee. After a few minutes he pulled the holo-tablet out of his robe pocket and flicked it on, picking a random spot in the video interview to watch while he ate so he could have the comfort of their voices and lovely faces, which he'd quickly grown addicted to over the course of last night.

 

God, he loved their voices; Cas's was all low, whiskey-rough and earnest with moments of unexpected deadpan sarcasm. Jimmy's voice was a smidge higher, more animated and prone to excitable tangents, sometimes downright sassy, but both of them sent shivers up Dean's spine that held a tint of alpha arousal, something he hadn't felt in forever. But mostly, their voices brought him a sense of well-being and contentment, a semblance of the humanity he had been sure was nearly gone from him.

 

He finished his breakfast and scooted his chair as close as he could to their pod, which now that he was more clearheaded, he noticed was quite unique. He'd never seen another pod like it before; it was at least twice the size of a normal pod, obviously custom made and calibrated to support the hibernation process for two people comfortably.

 

Leaning forward, Dean rested against the lid of the pod and gazed thoughtfully at Cas and Jimmy, letting their voices wash over him peacefully.

 

On the interview, Jimmy was expounding on all the challenges of beginning a new life. “We're starting over in every way. We'll have to figure out where to live, how to live, who our friends will be. It's like the first day of school, if the school bus took 120 years to get there! Let's just hope this first day goes better than our actual first day of school,” Jimmy shared a chuckle with Cas over what was evidently an inside joke between the two of them.

 

Dean laughed anyways, even though he wasn't in on it; it felt good to laugh and their smiling faces went a long way towards healing something inside him that had been broken for a very long time.

 

He smiled as he gazed down at them, smoothing his hand down the glass above their sleeping faces. “You're pretty funny,” he remarked to Jimmy. Well, the twin he thought was Jimmy. It was much harder to tell them apart when they were quiet like this, motionless and devoid of all the life and personality that was plainly visible when they were awake.

 

 

Day 256~

 

 

Down in the bar for the first time in what was probably weeks, Dean absently swirled the last few fingers of whiskey around in his glass as he read intently from his holo-tablet.

 

Jimmy was a hell of a writer; insightful, humorous and fucking smart enough to give Sammy a run for his money. With a little more creative hacking, using a simple algorithm Charlie had taught him for cyber-breaking-and-entering of encrypted files, Dean had gained access to Jimmy's portfolio of published articles and various other writings. They were an engrossing read and Dean had lost himself among them, definitely becoming enamored with their author.

 

Through the course of his cyber-snooping, he had uncovered a personal file of Castiel's and found out that he was more than just a medical genius, he also had quite the flair for photography.

 

Quite a few of the files were all nature shots, extreme micro shots of the insides of flowers, close-ups of bees and butterflies. Even to Dean, who had no real interest in photography, they were gorgeous, the childlike wonder, detail and unique camera angles fascinating to him.

 

The next few files were vastly different, but no less eye-catching and beautiful in their own stark, tragic way. From what he could see, it looked as though Castiel had gone on several assignments with Jimmy, taking pictures of the events he covered, from political rallies to places where the omega sex-trade and breeding farms were alive and well. Cas masterfully illustrated the events that Jimmy brought to life with his words and they made a powerful team.

 

Another set of photos were all of war-torn and impoverished areas, of children so emaciated they looked like skeletons and people with missing limbs and horrible wounds. One photo in particular made Dean cry; Jimmy must have taken this one, for it was of Castiel in a once-white, now dirty lab coat, holding a baby, its stomach distended from starvation, its eyes a beautiful blue-green, but much too large in its small face, mouth gaping open in a pitiful cry.

 

Yet, it was the expression on Cas's face that struck him the most, helpless but righteous anger, deep sympathy and so much love as he gazed down at the child cradled in his arms. It reminded Dean of one of the old Italian Renaissance paintings that no longer existed, all digitized nowadays, of an avenging angel, fierce and glorious, deadly, but only to those deserving of it.

 

It also made Dean's alpha hindbrain perk up slightly at the sight of such an appealing omega holding a baby, his biological imperatives nudging at him in a way they hadn't ever since before he woke up.

 

There was a video link attached to the file and Dean clicked on it. One of the twins, Jimmy, he thought, appeared. He looked tired and scruffy, hair windblown and a smudge of dirt on his cheek.

 

“Hey, so it's day three of Cas's Doctors Without Borders assignment in Nigeria and honestly, I don't know how he does it. The conditions here are...atrocious...deplorable. There's no food or water, these people are all displaced from their homes due to terrorist attacks, many of their alpha men have been killed, they are unable to grow or obtain food the way they normally would and several of the main transportation routes have been cut off. The omegas and betas and children have all been basically left alone to deal with the situation...everyone here, but especially the kids, suffers from acute malnutrition and I just...when I think of all the food we have back home, I mean, yeah, things are super expensive but at least we _have_ them...when I think of all the food I've thrown out because it was on the edge of going bad...these people would fight for the smallest scraps right now or even just a dirty handful of water.”

 

A tear tracked its way down Jimmy's dirt-stained cheek and he looked heartbroken as he scrubbed his fist over his face, rubbing away his tears.

 

“Jimmy? Are you in there?” A familiar voice asked, right before Cas ducked into the tent. The camera angle shifted as Jimmy turned to face his twin.

 

“I'm here,” he answered thickly. Cas took one look at his brother's face and moved in to enfold him in a hug, causing the camera to get knocked askew, obscuring Dean's vision of the two.

 

“It's pretty bad here, I know. But it's the right thing to do, to _be_ here, we're helping. That's all I've ever wanted to do,” Castiel's voice was soft and sad but impassioned.

 

Jimmy sniffed. “I know...I know you feel you're doing God's work out here...and I think you're right, it's just so hard to see all these people, these children, dying for no real, discernible reason. Things are bad everywhere, the governments do nothing to fix things and where is God? Why doesn't he help? Why doesn't he end all this?!”

 

Castiel didn't answer.

 

The video ended.

 

 

Day 265~

 

 

Re-reading another of Jimmy's articles, Dean finished off the last of the whiskey in his tumbler, but didn't ask for another.

 

He glanced up at Balthazar, mindlessly polishing away at a glass. “Did you ever read something and feel like it was written just for you?” Dean asked the bartender.

 

Balthazar pursed his lips in concentration. “Hmm...no. I don't do a lot of reading.”

 

Dean held up his holo-tablet. “Well, he's good, you should give him a read sometime.”

 

Balthazar stared at him, mildly puzzled. “Who's good?”

 

“Jimmy,” Dean answered definitively, as though the bartender should already know exactly who he meant.

 

After all, he'd told Balthazar all about the twins when he'd first returned to the bar after his months long hiatus.

 

“Ahh, yes. One of the sleeping boys that you're madly in love with,” Balthazar asserted wisely.

 

Dean didn't bother to correct him. He wasn't sure exactly what it was that he felt for the twins, other than a very profound connection. He knew he was equally infatuated with both of them, but was in no rush to figure it out just yet. They were a very welcome distraction.

 

With a sigh, he set the holo-tablet aside and rose from his chair with a bit of a grunt, he was still kinda sore from the other day. He stretched, trying to work out some of the kinks.

 

Dean looked thoughtfully over at Balthazar, who was wiping down the bar now. “Y'know, I'm not saying the universe is evil, but it sure has a nasty sense of humor.”

 

Balthazar peered up at him with a slight frown. “What do you mean?”

 

Rubbing a hand through his disgustingly long, messy hair, he considered what he had been trying to say.

 

“Well, I get to fly to another planet, but I'm going to die along the way. And then, I find the two most perfect guys I've ever seen, right in front of me...but they are completely out of my reach...” Dean trailed off, before wandering out of the bar.

 

Balthazar stared after him for a moment with as much pity as an android was capable of, then went back to his polishing.

 

 

Day 277~

 

 

Could you fall in love with two people you'd never actually met?

 

Could you fall in love with the facts, the details, the bits and pieces no one ever bothered to put into words?

 

The way Cas would smile shyly, a smile that was almost exclusively in his eyes, or the little eye-crinkles and nose scrunching that happened to both of them when they laughed about something. The way Jimmy would unconsciously run a hand through his hair, mussing it beyond repair when he got excited or emotionally charged about a topic, or the way Cas would duck his head and rub the back of his neck when he was nervous or embarrassed. The way Cas seemed to weigh every single word that passed his lips and conversely, the way Jimmy just blurted out the first thought that crossed his mind. Then there was the way Cas would tilt his head to the side when he was confused, that one got Dean every time, it was just too damn adorable.

 

It would be one thing if Dean had been snared by their looks alone, because who wouldn't be? The packaging was certainly appealing, the bottomless blue eyes were a surefire show-stopper, for one. But there was also the way Cas's dark hair was a bit overlong and curled endearingly around the bottom of his ears or the habit Jimmy had of running the backs of his knuckles across his jaw and chin when he was thinking, or the sweet little cleft in both of their chins, giving them adorable, heart-shaped faces. But those looks, paired with their innate, individual personalities, made it a thousand times more devastating, and as the days passed, Dean was alpha enough to admit that he was totally gone on them.

 

On paper, the twins were impressive too, their accomplishments varied and many, but that wasn't what was so alluring to Dean, what struck him, was their passion and focus, the way their minds worked, how everything seemed to matter to them. Though a bit younger than Dean, Cas and Jimmy didn't appear to have the cavalier, flippant attitude that was the hallmark of many of their peers. Dean knew it sounded cheesy, but the Novak twins were _deep_.

 

To an outsider, looking in, these were inconsequential things, not even worth noticing, just another drop in the bucket, but to Dean, as an outsider looking in, but with a vested interest bordering on obsession, they were extreme moments, forcing him to feel, even when he didn't want to. He fixated on every tiny quirk, memorizing them, cataloging them, trying to build a completed image out of snippets.

 

When you added all of these small details up, you got the feel of a person, who they were according to the sum of their parts, maybe not the whole picture, for you could never totally know another person completely. But enough to know how much you missed them, even though you'd never met. Enough to viciously hate time and circumstances, to despise the universe as a whole, for keeping you apart.

 

 

Day 288~

 

 

Dean was re-watching one of his favorite parts of the interviews again, like an addict getting his daily dose of his drug of choice.

 

“As a writer, is there anyone that you look to for inspiration?”

 

Jimmy rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. “Well, at the risk of offending my colleagues and peers, I have to say, I don't care for any living writers. Everyone I like has been dead for the last couple hundred years or more. I've always leaned more towards the classics anyways. I'm a sucker for Vonnegut, Phillip K. Dick...uhh...Stephen King was always a guilty pleasure and a good read. As for inspiration, I really don't have to look very far.”

 

At that, Jimmy nudged his brother. Cas looked over at him, mildly surprised. “Who, me?”

 

“Yeah, you, ya big sap. You inspire me everyday, to think outside the box and question everything. I'd never have gotten this far without you.” Jimmy smiled teasingly to lighten the weight of his statement, but Dean could tell it had hit home for Cas. He was trying to hide it, but Dean knew heart-eyes when he saw them, even though he couldn't personally say that he'd ever had _anyone_ look at him the way Cas was staring at Jimmy right now.

 

Dean paused the video. It was part adoration and something...else...Dean couldn't really put his finger on at the moment.

 

It sort of reminded him a little of how Sam used to look up to him when he was younger, that hero-worship that always gave him the warm fuzzies.

 

Dean hit play on the feed, and it picked back up just as Cas was saying, with that sweet, shy little smile that Dean was totally slayed by, “You're my inspiration, too.”

 

The interviewer seemed to ignore the moment the twins were having in favor of juicier topics. “I notice you didn't mention either your father or your grandfather, both great men in their own right.”

 

Jimmy looked a little taken aback, possibly a touch ashamed or embarrassed, but this time, Cas jumped right in. “I'm afraid I didn't hear a question in that sentence. You're correct, they were both great men, but very distant, consumed by their work, which didn't leave much time for us. We had to fend for ourselves and lean on each other for support and look to both ourselves and each other for encouragement and insight. Does that answer the question you were hinting at, but didn't ask?”

 

Cas's blue eyes were practically throwing off sparks and Jimmy was desperately biting his lip, trying to hold back his grin at his brother's impassioned mini-rant, even as the interviewer rushed on to a less volatile subject, obviously cowed by Cas...who looked impossibly hot when he got all worked up.

 

Dean grinned at the sight and longed to behold the twins in all their full, technicolor glory in real life.

 

 

Day 292~

 

 

Dean visited the twins everyday and when he wasn't curled up next to their pod, he was in his room, watching their passenger interviews over and over again, gazing for hours at Castiel's photo galleries or reading Jimmy's writings.

 

One day, he dug out his old, dog-eared, battered copy of 'Cat's Cradle', which had belonged to his father and headed down to the twin's pod.

 

“Hey guys, I brought some Vonnegut, I know you said you like him, Jimmy. Hope you do too, Cas. He's always been in my top-five authors.”

 

Settling in his camp chair, Dean flipped to one of his favorite passages and began to read.

 

“... _We talked about the Pope and birth control, about Hitler and the Jews. We talked about phonies. We talked about truth. We talked about gangsters; we talked about business. We talked about the nice poor people who went to the electric chair; and we talked about the rich bastards who didn’t. We talked about religious people who had perversions. We talked about a lot of things_...”

 

Sighing, Dean leaned in and rested his forehead against the plexi-glass. “I wish I could do that with you guys, just talk about anything and everything. The only other person I could ever do that with was my little brother, Sam. I bet you guys can talk about everything under the sun to each other too, huh?”

 

Dean sat back and paged around til he found another of his favorite parts.

 

“... _I had heard it suggested one time that the seasons in the temperate zone should be six rather than four in number: summer, autumn, locking, winter, unlocking, and spring. And I remembered that as I straightened up beside our manhole, and stared and listened and sniffed. There were no smells. There was no movement. Every step I took made a gravelly squeak in blue-white frost. And every squeak was echoed loudly. The season of locking was over. The earth was locked up tight._

 _  
__It was winter, now and forever_...”

 

“It always feels like the season of locking out here, like winter, huh? Locked up tight in this ship, forever.” A little embarrassed, Dean felt a tear drip down his cheek, but thought that if the twins had been awake, they wouldn't have begrudged him; it wasn't hard to be moved by a good story, to relate to words that so aptly described his own situation.

 

He continued reading, long into the night.

 

 

Day 299~

 

 

Today, Dean had decided it was high time he cleaned out the pigsty that his suite had become and was listening to their interviews once more as he tidied up, like it was his favorite Led Zeppelin album or something.

 

“Yeah, I'll miss Earth for sure, places like San Francisco and New York, I mean, give me a view of the Chrysler Building or the Golden Gate Bridge and a cup of coffee and I can write all day.” Jimmy said wistfully.

 

“They do have coffee on New Hope IV, don't they?” Cas asked worriedly.

 

“Oh, god,” Jimmy giggled. “They'd better! We'd have to turn around and come back to Earth, because this guy here will start an apocalypse if he doesn't get his daily dose of java!”

 

Cas pouted at this, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath and Dean was hard-pressed not to find it absolutely adorable.

 

“Don't worry, Cas, I packed plenty of coffee, just in case,” Jimmy consoled his brother, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and shaking him a little, which got a tiny smile out of his twin.

 

Dean grinned and laughed along with them as he picked up some tools and assorted odds and ends that he intended to take down to the engine room in a bit.

 

It was as the interviewer was asking them if there was anything they regretted leaving behind, that Dean picked up a discarded shirt, underneath it was the manual for the hibernation pods. He froze, staring at it steadily as Cas's rough voice sounded around him.

 

“I'll miss sitting in the park and people watching and seeing the trees change color in fall...” Cas's words faded out and Dean heard only a rushing noise as the seed of an idea, albeit a dangerous and terrible one, began to form in his mind.

 

 

Day 303~

 

 

Walking up to the bar, Dean slapped the hibernation pod manual down on the polished surface as Balthazar whirred over to him.

 

“Say you were trapped on a desert island and you had the power to wish somebody there with you. You wouldn't have to be alone anymore...but you'd be stranding the person on the island...how do you—Would you make that wish?” Dean demanded fervently with no preamble.

 

Balthazar arched an eyebrow at him, somewhat perplexed. “I don't know. I've never been on an island.”

 

Temporarily thrown off track, Dean scrambled for another example. “Okay, well, yeah. Alright, uhh...forget the island. Let's say you figured out how to do something...that would make your life a million times better...but you knew it was—Oh, shit, you knew it was wrong, and there'd be no taking it back—and just...How do you do the math? How do you decide?” Dean was anxious to get another opinion here.

 

Balthazar stared at him in bewilderment for a few seconds. “Dean, these are not what you would call 'robot questions'.”

 

Dean heaved a deep sigh and plunked himself down in a chair, collapsing against the bar. “I know how to wake Cas and Jimmy up,” he revealed, equal parts determined but miserable about the atrocity he was considering committing. And it was indeed an atrocity, because once he had formed the idea, he realized he couldn't wake just one of them up, even if he could choose between them (and he totally couldn't), there was no way to only interrupt the hibernation for only one of them when they both shared the same cycle and pod. Not to mention the fact that there was no way he could fathom splitting the two of them up, waking only one twin and dooming him to a life of never seeing his best friend again.

 

“Oh, well that sounds like a fine idea! You could do with some company, instead of moping about down here,” Balthazar surmised, heedless of Dean's moral dilemma.

 

“Yeah, but dude, I'd be marooning them on this ship for the rest of their lives!” Dean sputtered, and God, did it sound horrible when he said it out loud like that.

 

“Huh. Well, you can't do that.” The bartender conceded firmly.

 

“Fuck...what am I gonna do?” Dean muttered dejectedly.

 

Straightening and puffing out his chest a bit, Balthazar smiled comfortingly at him. “Well, I'm here for you!”

 

Dean groaned exasperatedly. “Dude. You're a machine.” He leaned forward and pushed at Balthazar's chest, before thumping him soundly in the shoulder a few times. “See? You can't feel that. You don't have _feelings_.”

  
The android frowned at him in confusion, rocking back a little and looking down at his own chest as if just realizing it was there.

 

Abruptly, Dean stood up and punched Balthazar in the face, which produced a dull, metallic clanging noise, more than a little angry at his inability to understand human perception, but the android was as unmoved as ever and just stared at him dryly.

 

“Feel better?”

 

“No. But I proved my point, see? That didn't hurt you at all. And, you don't even mind!” Dean grumbled, shaking out his hand, which was smarting from the ill-advised punch.

 

“...Cause you're not a _person,_ ” he hissed, storming out of the bar.

 

 

Day 316~

 

 

Dean stood in front of Cas and Jimmy's pod, hugging the hibernation pod manual to his chest with both arms, rocking back and forth like a crack addict, staring down almost manically at their sleeping faces. He'd slept only sporadically since he'd discovered the means of waking them.

 

“Tell me what to do here...will you both hate me if I wake you up? I just...I can't go on alone any longer...I'll d--...I won't make it. Please.” He beseeched them pleadingly.

 

The twins gave him no answer, only silence.

 

 

Day 328~

 

 

Beating aggressively on the punching bag, Dean's thoughts were elsewhere, centered on the twins.

 

“Don't even think about it,” he whispered sternly to himself, hitting the bag harder, as though it was full of the thoughts he knew he shouldn't be having, as though he could pummel them into submission, but thoughts of waking Cas and Jimmy and the promise of companionship were becoming too much for him to ignore.

 

Dean was afraid of what he might do.

 

Again, he marveled at the capriciousness of the universe. For placing him in the position where he had to choose. Choose between living alone and miserable until he died, or doing something unspeakable to the two people who could be his perfect match, weighing his future against the cost of their lives.

 

Sometimes, Dean was very keenly aware of the importance of the fact that, there was still a world, nay, many worlds, outside this ship, outside his own mind, that his actions still had meaning, even though no one was around to witness or validate them. The world didn't just disappear when you closed your eyes. If you did something horrible, it was still horrible even if no one was around to judge or punish you for it.

 

 

Day 341~

 

 

The more Dean thought about it, the more a few things were becoming clear to him. To begin with, his obsession had gone far beyond the physical; yes, they were both beautiful omegas and he was attracted to them physically, the matter of scent compatibility notwithstanding, he was null right now and couldn't have cared less what they smelled like, though he doubted two such lovely creatures could smell anything but wonderful.

 

It had occurred to him, that if he did this unforgivable thing, if he woke them up, they may not be interested in him in any way besides friendship, which amazingly enough, he was fine with. He found the idea of never having sex again, to definitely be regrettable, but infinitely more manageable than never interacting with another human as long as he lived, which, at this rate, wouldn't be long at all.

 

In a way, stumbling across the twins had saved his life, given him something else to think about besides his crushing alienation, something to hold onto. And this was how he was going to repay them? By taking away their lives, their dreams, dooming them to a life aboard this ship, with only him as a companion and no chance of reaching their destination alive?

 

Telling them that he was the one who woke them, was a major flaw in Dean's plan that he kept trying to brush away like an annoying pest, but it kept poking at his conscience. This was an outrageous, desperate act, but so were Dean's circumstances.

 

What was that old chestnut?

 

Ahh, yes...Desperate times call for desperate measures.

 

Damn right they did. Dean had the first pod failure in history to his name. No one else had ever faced a scenario like this. Unlike the hibernation pods, there was no manual for this procedure, only his own sense of right and wrong. He had only his own moral compass, that even Dean could see, due to all the months in isolation, was starting to stray a bit too far from true north, otherwise he wouldn't even be contemplating this.

 

He would never see his friends or family again and he'd never get to fulfill the life he had finally won, hard-fought, for himself. Didn't that matter in this equation? It was a horrible fate, to be sure, and one that had been forced upon him out of revenge to boot, but was it worth enough to justify committing an equally abhorrent act?

 

He could always just say nothing, never let on that it was his doing, let them assume it was due to a malfunction on the part of the pod or the ship, as Dean's had been.

 

But, his conscience countered, what if they found out? What if he woke them, they became friends, perhaps best friends, maybe even lovers and then they discovered this horrible, dark thing Dean had done? Would there be any possibility of explaining? Of them understanding? Of them being forgiving, or at least merciful? Although, if it came to that, Dean figured it might be best if they did just kill him and put him out of his misery for good.

 

Uncomfortably, he acknowledged that this action was nearly on par with premeditated murder, he was scheming and plotting for his own gain, to save his own life, by taking away the potential lives of two other people. In doing this, was he saying that his life was worth more than theirs? And even though Dean felt like he had the monopoly on isolation, loneliness and the agony of hopelessness, did that give him the right to just do whatever he wanted because there was no one around to tell him otherwise?

 

All the things that made life worth living were eroding, slipping away from him and this felt like the only way left to get even a modicum of it back.

 

Maybe it _was_ fate. It sure as fuck _felt_ inevitable. There wasn't what he _might_ or _might not_ do. Only what he _would_ do.

 

More than ever, he missed Sam, wished for his brother's unflappable calm and rationality, his cool, logical brain. Sam would know what to do in a situation like this. Sam would be strong enough to resist. Dean was the weak link, always had been.

 

 

Day 359~

 

 

Re-watching the interviews for the millionth time, Dean was looking for a sign, a solution, an answer of some sort to his predicament.

 

No lightning had struck yet, but something else was becoming very clear.

 

“As male omegas, have you encountered any obstacles in regards to your secondary and increasingly rare gender designation?” The interviewer asked, possibly hoping to get a rise out of the twins.

 

Some people might have taken offense to this question, but Jimmy only brushed it off airily. “We've run into plenty of knothead alphas and others along the way, but we've never let what anyone else thinks of us keep us down. Besides, the times, they are a-changin'. If my genius big brother has anything to do with it, that it is!”

 

Dean noticed Cas squeeze his brother's hand surreptitiously with a shy little smile before he spoke up.

 

“Lately, I've been studying the part of the genetic code and corresponding cell patterns that doctors and scientists believe may have been the catalyst for the strange mutation of alpha/beta/omega dynamics that has plagued the human race in recent years. It's my theory that eventually this piece of code will completely overwrite itself, canceling itself out as it already seems to be doing and humans will return to their original state.”

 

“So does this mean you don't believe in true-mates?” The glance the twins shared at this question was eerily quick and Dean would have missed it if he hadn't been so invested in their answers.

 

Jimmy was first to speak. “We're both firm believers in free will, in the idea that everyone has a choice in whoever they choose to love, no one has to be a slave to their biology.”

 

Castiel was quick to back his brother up. “True-mates are merely a manifestation of the current mutation's hold over our biology, it's simply your body alerting you to the presence of a highly compatible mate, nothing more, nothing less. You can choose, even if by society's standards it might be perceived as wrong to ignore such a biological impulse and select another, possibly unorthodox, person to mate.”

 

The twins shared another glance, loaded with meaning and Jimmy patted his brother's leg, his hand lingering a few moments longer than what might be considered acceptable, and suddenly, Dean knew.

 

Knew what it was that had been niggling at him ever since he first watched their interviews.

 

Back on Earth, due to Dean practically raising Sam, they had shared an intrinsic, nearly supernatural bond, a closeness that had led many to mistake them for mates when they were out and about. They had always laughed it off, made jokes about being 'brother-lovers' and 'Wincest.' It was funny because they knew the truth of their relationship, that Sam loved Dean not only as a big brother, complete with hero-worship and alpha competitiveness, but also as a pseudo-father and a best friend. Likewise, Dean loved Sam as an incorrigible little brother, someone he had taught to ride a bike and flirt with girls, a son and a best friend whose happiness he held above his own.

 

But _this_ , was _not_ that. This relationship between Jimmy and Cas seemed to extend far deeper than simple kinship between siblings, even twins. You'd never catch Dean with his hand high up on Sam's thigh like that, or exchanging profound, loving glances. Of course Sam and Dean loved each other, but theirs was a mostly non-demonstrative, manly love, with rare, tight, bone-crushing hugs and hearty back-thumping and a million other ways of saying “I love you” than actually uttering those three little words aloud. Their terms of endearment consisted of “bitch” and “jerk.” It might seem unorthodox to outsiders, but it worked for them.

 

No, the Novak twins were something more. Dean would bet every single penny he had to his name that they were _that_ kind of _together._

 

And strangely enough, once faced with the possibility, he was fine with it. Yes, it was a bit odd, but also kinda sexy. And hey, it wasn't like he hadn't watched substantial amounts of porn in general. Not to mention omega on omega porn in specific, though never real, honest to God, identical twins, that was quite the rarity and he was certain they'd probably received their fair share of criticism for it, judging by their answers on the interview. Which, due to this new wrinkle, gave Dean a totally different context through which to view everything about them.

 

Hell, Dean and a friend of his back on Earth named Crowley, had done unspeakable things to triplets that one time, so Dean was no shrinking violet when it came to fantasies involving kinky shit. Actually, now that he thought about it, twins were a pretty tame entry on the docket of his sexual fantasy bucket list. In fact, getting slapped during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask was a few notches higher than twins, mainly because it was a long-held, even longer unfulfilled wish that dated back to his teenage dual crushes on Antonio Banderas and Catherine Zeta-Jones from those ancient Zorro films. Dean always did love the classics.

 

He did wonder though, if he was the only one to ever notice this unexpected proclivity of theirs. If Dean hadn't been so fixated on every last detail about Cas and Jimmy, he may never have noticed, but he was, so he did. Maybe it was an open secret among their friends and family, or perhaps no one knew about it.

 

The thought crossed his mind that the twins were like an ever-expanding universe, there would always be something new to learn or see, he'd never be bored of them, they'd present him with new wonders everyday.

 

Although, yeah, the probability that they were most likely together definitely cut his chances of anything more than friendship down from 50% to pretty much nil. As the old saying went, two's a party, but three's a crowd. However, he couldn't find it in himself to be that disappointed, they were lucky to find what he hadn't been able to obtain in thirty odd years. What he had left his goddamned planet to find, they had found in each other.

 

Just one more reason why waking them was such a reprehensible plan.

 

Dean resolved to forget about the Novak twins.

 

 

Day 366~

 

 

“No more Cas and Jimmy talk,” Dean slurred, sloshing the whiskey in his glass.

 

Balthazar arched an eyebrow at him. “Am I to take this to mean you've decided against waking them?” He inquired.

 

Dean slashed his hand through the air. “I'm over it.”

 

The previously raised eyebrow crawled up until it reached Balthazar's hairline in disbelief. “Really.”

 

“Yup. I'm movin' on. Movin' on up...whooo!” Dean spun around in his chair, doing a full spin until he was facing Balthazar once more, before slumping face-first onto the bar-top.

 

“I have to,” Dean croaked miserably.

 

Dean staggered upright in preparation to leave, then turned back. “On second thought, better give me the rest of the bottle, Bal.”

 

The bartender passed it over wordlessly.

 

 

Day 373~

 

 

Covered in sweat, Dean beat against the vault-like door to the bridge repeatedly with his sledgehammer. It seemed like his whole life now was one big, useless endeavor.

BAM!

“Don't even think about it!” Tears ran down his cheeks.

BAM!

“Just fucking forget it!” He sniffed, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.

BAM!

“You cannot do this to them!” He gritted his teeth and put all his might behind this hit.

BAM!

Dean finally broke, crumpling to the ground, sobs wracking his body.

 

 

Day 375~

 

 

“I'm not...no more...” Dean slurred drunkenly. “You won't hear me bring their names uppagain...I'll never even mention Cas and Jimmy—oops...I'll never mention th' names agin...Balzar...Bathazar..Blaazaaar...anyone ever tell ya that's a real funny name?”

Dean tipped the whiskey bottle into his mouth, sucking down the last few drops, while Balthazar watched impassively.

“M'done.”

 

 

Day 377~

 

 

Dean stared down at the schematics for the hibernation pod, eyes roving over his notes and the procedure for interrupting stasis.

He slammed the manual shut and threw it across the room angrily.

 

 

Day 381~

 

 

“What am I gonna do? I can't just keep sitting here and thinking about it. I'm not...I can't _do_ this, so I have to stop thinking about it, right? Like, if I keep thinking about it then I'm just gonna end up doing it and I can't do it so--”

Balthazar nodded on understandingly, as Dean jabbered away at light speed.

Maybe the four cups of coffee this morning to counteract his hangover had been a mistake.

“I can't do it, so I'm not gonna think about it. That's the deal. I've made my decision. I know what I'm doing. I just gotta cut it off.” Dean made a clicking noise with his tongue and forming his fingers into scissors, moved them in a clipping motion decisively.

“See? Easy. Snip-snip. The end.”

 

 

Day 383~

 

 

Another hank of sandy gold hair fell into the sink, as Dean cut his past-Sam-length hair as neatly as he could manage. After he had trimmed it down to only an inch or so, he took care to buzz it short like he'd always worn it, with a little bit of length on top so he could side part and comb it down or spike it up as he liked.

Next, he sheared off his beard, finally seeing his own clean shaven face for the first time in months.

He splashed water over his newly revealed face, exhaling heavily and noticing how all the redness from crying, sleep deprivation and too much booze made his eyes appear even more green than ever.

Leaning in, he gazed into his own eyes. “Okay. My name is Dean Winchester. I am a _good_ person. I am _not_ going to do this, because it is _wrong_.” Dean inhaled deeply. “It's wrong, so wrong. I won't do this, I can't do this. I want to...but I won't...I can't...”

Dean watched as the water slowly filled his cupped palms again and pressed his face into his hands.

He blinked droplets of water out of his eyes and stared himself down desperately.

A stranger stared back at him hopelessly. Enraged by his own countenance, Dean smashed his fist into the mirror, viciously enjoying the crunch of glass and the sharp burn of pain that helped clear his mind. He was stronger than all of this. He was better than this.

_I won't._

 

 

Day 386~

 

 

Dean woke up early, carefully shaved and showered, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He dressed in a faded but clean pair of jeans and a pale green henley and dabbed on a little Old Spice.

He gazed long and hard at his reflection.

“You can't do this,” he whispered softly.

He rubbed a hand through his hair tiredly, screwing up the neat side part and scrubbed it into a mess of spikes.

He met his eyes in the mirror once more.

“Please don't do it,” he begged.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Foregoing breakfast, he headed down to the engine room, gathered up his toolbelt and toolbox, making sure he had the hibernation pod manual with him and made his way to the passenger hibernation pod deck.

At a measured pace, he walked down the aisles like a man headed to the gallows, knowing the path like the back of his hand.

When he arrived, he set his things down with a muted thud, staring at the twins in their plexi-glass enclosure, still and peaceful, fast asleep, unaware that he was about to disrupt their dreams and effectively end their lives as they knew them.

Deliberately, he knelt down, fastened his toolbelt around his waist and got to work. Opening the manual to the pertinent page and laying it out beside him, he began. Unlatching the access panel with a soft beep, he hacked into the main system of the pod, removing the clock chip and replacing it with a blank one, then clamping down some wires and detaching others busily for about ten minutes until he was just one tap of the screen away from completing his task.

He gathered all his tools and neatly put everything away, packing up the manual and any other incriminating odds and ends that might signify the presence of another person being involved, perpetuating the belief that either the ship, the pod, or both, had malfunctioned, causing this tragedy.

How easy it was to do this huge, monstrous thing.

Yet, there was still time, he could undo this, take it all back. Nothing was set in stone yet.

( _And die alone and miserable_.)

It wasn't too late, he could stop this.

( _I can't do this on my own any longer_.)

Dean grabbed up his stuff, took a deep breath, held it, and with his free hand, tapped the screen, initiating the reanimation process.

The crackling of electricity filled the air as a loud mechanical whirring kicked on, making him jump back a bit and he gazed in part horror, part wonderment, down at the twins, as pure air suffused the pod, the oxygen masks clamping over their faces, pumping life into their lungs and defibrillator paddles settled over their chests, restarting their vital rhythms.

It distantly reminded Dean of the old monster movie _Frankenstein_ , when the doctor had brought his creation to life.

The twins gasped in tandem, like synchronized swimmers breaking free of the water, chests expanding with deep breaths, first forced by the machines, then easily, on their own.

Their eyelashes started fluttering like butterfly wings.

The pod began rotating, doors swinging silently outwards.

Mesmerized, Dean finally realized that if his plan was to work, he wasn't supposed to be there.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered lowly, and ran for the exit.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo....whadja think? Y'all know I love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave comments and kudos, feedback is love ^_^


	3. Chapter Two: The Second Year: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it took me a little longer to get the next part up here. Real life is pretty much taking precedence over everything else...and I do mean everything. Sleeping, eating, fun stuff, writing...Hopefully I get a break soon, because I don't know how much longer I can keep going without any kind of downtime. Anyways, enjoy this next installment and be sure to let me know what you think in the comments, I love to hear your thoughts! Happy Tuesday! :-)

 

~*~X~*~

 

CHAPTER TWO: THE SECOND YEAR

PART ONE

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Day 1~

 

 

Like a wounded animal, Dean let his instincts guide him to safety. Behind him, he could distantly hear the hologram of Tessa beginning her usual spiel. The twins voices were too quiet to pick up, but he was sure Tessa would get them squared away safely.

 

His alpha hindbrain led him back to the refuge of his suite and he threw himself inside, tossing his toolbelt over a chair and dumping his toolbox in the corner with some other odds and ends.

 

The hibernation pod manual, the most incriminating piece of evidence, he clutched in his hand, spinning around in a circle, rubbing a hand over his face and trying to decide where best to hide it, and like a child, settled for the bottom drawer of his dresser, stashing it back behind some old sweaters and coveralls he rarely wore and slamming the drawer shut.

 

It was only then he realized he was practically hyperventilating, gasping for air with tears streaming down his cheeks. His heart was hammering away like a hummingbird on six cups of coffee and his stomach was creeping up his throat. With a pained moan, he dashed for the bathroom, making it just in time to gag up only some nasty bile into the toilet since he'd skipped breakfast.

 

Oh god...what had he done?

 

His head pounding, he rinsed his mouth of the foul taste and gulped water straight from the faucet. He gazed at himself in the mirror; he looked pale, haggard and scared out of his mind.

 

What was he going to do?

 

Soon enough, the twins would realize something was amiss. They'd probably sleep for awhile first, then report for their morning class the next day, just like Dean had. Only to find out the awful truth, that they'd woken up 89 years too early.

The magnitude of what he'd done was starting to sink in around the edges for Dean and still breathing shakily, he backed himself into a corner, sliding down against the wall til he was sitting and tucked his head between his knees.

Dean had done this, so now he'd just have to deal with it. He'd have to be strong for the twins. They were about to get some very bad news and he needed to be there for them, as no one had been for him.

 

He may have felt like half an alpha right now due to his senses having gone null, but deep at his core, fundamentally, he lived to take care of others. He'd just have to play 'fake it til you make it' once more and do whatever he could to ease the burden on them. Hopefully, they'd take it a hell of a lot better than he had.

 

Dean believed in them though. Cas and Jimmy were strong and smart, maybe they'd think of something he hadn't, maybe with the three of them together, they'd come up with a solution to fix this whole mess.

 

And maybe pigs would fucking fly...y'know, without the use of high powered rockets like that one guy had experimented with in the 22nd century. It hadn't gone well, but hey, at least they'd come up with a new way to barbecue pork!

Dean was getting a bit ahead of himself here. The first step was just meeting them and trying not to give himself away in the process as they figured out what was going on.

 

Maybe it was better to just prostrate himself at their feet, tell them the truth and beg for their mercy.

 

Ugghh...but no, he couldn't. Couldn't bear the thought of their faces turning from relieved at the sight of another human, to horrified and angry when he explained the part he had played in their current situation.

 

He was just too damn chickenshit.

 

Dean's only option now was to wait, wait for them to wake up, then gently break the news to them...and then...wait some more for the other shoe to drop.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Groggily, Cas and Jimmy stumbled along, shivering in their grey robes, following the lead of Tessa and their wristbands to find their room.

 

Once inside, they verified their identities to receive their luggage and were encouraged by Tessa to drink plenty of fluids and after resting, report bright and early the next morning for their Learning Group Classes.

 

Satisfied that they were settled in, she vanished and left them to their own devices.

 

As one, they shuffled for the bathroom, taking it in turns to relieve themselves. With that important business out of the way, they moved back into the main room and drank deeply of the pale pink liquid provided.

 

There were two double beds, but by silent agreement they both clambered on to one, huddled together, face to face.

They stared quietly at each other with matching little smiles on their faces and Jimmy ran his hand softly down Castiel's stubbled cheek.

 

“We made it,” he whispered to his twin.

 

“We did,” Castiel agreed, layering his hand over Jimmy's, pressing into his warmth, rubbing his cheek against Jimmy's palm like an over-sized cat.

 

Patting Cas's cheek, Jimmy turned over, wiggling around a bit til he was comfortable. “I call little spoon!”

 

Grumbling, Cas arranged himself accordingly, snaking an arm around Jimmy's waist and drawing him back til he was flush with Cas's chest. Jimmy hummed his approval, melting into Cas's embrace effortlessly as they'd been doing all their lives and was asleep in moments.

 

Scenting the crook of Jimmy's neck, Castiel was disappointed, but not surprised, to smell nothing, their systems were still recovering and their omega senses would return after a few days. But that didn't keep him from missing the comforting rainwater and rose scent of his twin, even though he knew it by heart.

 

Tucking his face against the soft hairs at the nape of Jimmy's neck, he sighed deeply.

 

They had made it.

 

Tomorrow was the beginning of the rest of their lives together.

 

Castiel couldn't wait.

 

Smiling, he closed his eyes and followed his brother into sleep.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

The rest of Dean's day was agony. He swore time was going backwards. He tried to distract himself with various things, but nothing worked, he was too restless, he just wanted to get it over with. Once Jimmy and Cas knew the situation, they could start coming to terms with it.

 

This right here, was the calm before a summer lightning storm and Dean was the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof. He just wanted the storm to descend, to rage, so he could ride it out or be consumed.

 

He wanted a drink so damn bad it wasn't even funny, but knew he'd never be able to stop at just one. With the way he felt right now, his anxiety and guilt would overpower him and he'd end up, once again, at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, just like his dad. And as jittery as he was right now, he knew that the blurred edges of a drunken stupor would do him no favors; sobriety was the ticket.

 

Dean had to keep his wits about him so he could be there for Cas and Jimmy. They were all that mattered now. He had done this to them, so he would take care of them to the best of his ability.

 

Dean wasn't trying to go all sexist alpha male here, he knew they were capable, independent omegas. But he also remembered the stress and devastation his realization had wrought upon him, and how he'd had no one to turn to. Balthazar notwithstanding, he was just an android, and as nice and free with the booze as he was, it still didn't compare to the comfort of an actual human, who could truly grasp the gravity of the situation.

 

The least Dean could do, was be there as a shoulder to lean on or cry on if necessary, to explain things and provide answers, (though not the ones that really mattered) and help them adjust to their surroundings.

 

Pushing his anxiety away, Dean made his way down to the communal dining room, forced himself to eat some dinner, which he couldn't even taste and forewent a stiff drink, choosing water instead. If he was going to be of any use to Cas and Jimmy, he had to start taking better care of himself.

 

Still feeling fidgety, he retired to his room, crashing on the couch and marathoning old re-runs of one of his all-time favorite shows, Doctor Sexy, M.D. Come to think of it, Cas and Jimmy both could totally pull off Dr. Sexy's iconic look, cowboy boots, white lab coat and navy blue scrubs paired with that dark, untamed bedhead. Dean salivated at the thought, then regretfully tried to ignore it; it wasn't fair to think of them that way, not after what he'd done to them.

 

He tried to blame the heartburn he felt on whatever he'd had for dinner, but deep down, he knew it was just guilt and fear. This day and all the others before it, were taking their toll, leaving him mentally, emotionally and physically drained.

 

Sighing heavily, he switched off the show and headed to bed, taking care to set his alarm for the next day. Burrowing down under the covers, he eventually fell asleep after plenty of tossing and turning, exhaustion finally causing him to sink into a dark, dreamless sleep.

 

 

Day 2~

 

 

At the sound of their alarm, Cas and Jimmy awoke curled up around each other, sporting matching, half-mast morning wood, but due to their also matching hibernation hangovers, instead of their usual sleepy morning sex routine that they had always engaged in back on Earth, they opted to languidly make out in bed for fifteen minutes. Savoring a few quiet moments together before their busy day apart began. Due to different skill sets, they had been assigned to two different Learning Groups. But after all, as Jimmy reminded Cas between kisses, they had the rest of their lives to have hot, wild monkey sex whenever they wanted.

 

This comment, of course, led to some tickling, which looped back to long, nipping kisses before Castiel finally took initiative as the older brother and herded them out of bed to begin getting ready.

 

The shower was spacious enough to fit them both and in the interest of water conservation, _obviously,_ they shared it, washing each others hair and soaping up, not without a few more kisses, their mutual excitement making a pleasurable feedback loop through their bond.

 

Afterwards, they toweled off, wandering around naked as they brushed their teeth and tried to figure out what to wear amidst more kissing and mutual ass-grabbing.

 

Jimmy eventually settled on a grey, long-sleeved henley and dark wash jeans, while Cas went for his old standby of white collared button-down paired with black slacks. He was fussing over whether or not to wear his favorite blue tie when Jimmy playfully plucked it out of his hands and with a kiss to his cheek, reminded him, “This isn't actually the first day of school. But this is a fresh start and we can be whoever we want. No rule-book, remember?”

 

Smiling gratefully at his twin, Cas tucked the tie back into his suitcase as Jimmy disappeared into the bathroom.

 

“But that doesn't mean I don't have some ideas for that tie later!” Jimmy called out from the bathroom.

 

Cas grinned wolfishly, he had a few ideas of his own, too. He waited til Jimmy exited the other room to hand him one of the complimentary protein bars that had been provided and a glass of pink vitamin water, while munching on his own bar.

 

Swallowing his mouthful, he glanced over and caught Jimmy's eye, winking salaciously. “Better keep your strength up then.”

 

He was rewarded by the gummy smile that he loved so much and returned it with one of his own, chugging down the last of his pink drink thirstily.

 

After a cursory rinse with some mouthwash and some unsuccessful attempts to make their matching bedheads lie completely flat, the twins pronounced themselves as ready as they'd ever be, Cas donning Jimmy's old trenchcoat, partly for warmth, partly out of sentimentality that made Jimmy smile fondly at him.

 

Jimmy, after a little deliberation, decided to slip on his favorite black leather jacket and Cas arched an eyebrow at him. “You'd better behave yourself at school today.”

 

Smirking, Jimmy sidled into Cas's personal space under the pretense of fixing the lapels of his coat. “And if I don't?”

 

Schooling his face to look as stern as possible, Cas growled, “Then some punishment will be in order and I'll have to implement a few of the ideas that _I_ had for that tie later on.”

 

Suppressing a shiver, Jimmy leaned in to rub his clean-shaven cheek against Cas's stubbled one. “That's not exactly an incentive to behave myself.”

 

“It wasn't really meant to be,” laughed Cas, reveling in his brother's closeness.

 

“Then I guess I'll have to be as bad as possible and make you do something about it,” Jimmy countered, blue eyes darkening with the beginnings of lust.

 

“Mmm...don't threaten me with a good time,” Cas warned, feeling his own omega senses perk up and wished it was the end of the day already so that he could have Jimmy to himself.

 

Jimmy rubbed his nose against the scent glands on Cas's neck and looked very reminiscent of a kicked puppy when he couldn't pick up his twin's scent. “We'll be back to normal soon,” Cas assured, noting Jimmy's unhappy face.

 

Jimmy nodded before leaning forward to hug his brother tightly. “Tell me we did the right thing in leaving,” he whispered, needing some validation.

 

“Of course we did the right thing,” Cas answered, enfolding Jimmy snugly in his embrace, scenting him out of habit even though he still couldn't smell anything.

 

“Like you said, this is a fresh start and we can be whoever we want to be. We were never going to be happy on Earth, always trying to hide what we truly meant to each other. On New Hope IV we can have our own place together, out of the spotlight, away from prying eyes, just for you and me. You can write and I'll get to finally have my beehives and we'll just live our lives, the way we've always wanted to.”

 

Jimmy pulled back, eyes shining with tears, but smiling and nodding his head at the picture his twin painted.

 

“Yeah, Cas, that's what I want, just you and me, together forever.”

 

Cas kissed him gently, rubbing Jimmy's tears away with his thumb. “Me, too. Always.”

 

Jimmy sniffed a little and then went into the bathroom to splash his face with some water, washing away the evidence of his nerves. He strode back over to Cas purposefully, tugged him in close and planted an enthusiastic, deep kiss on his lips, a promise of things to come, which Cas returned tenfold, and then leaned back a bit. “Alright, let's go kick it in the ass!”

 

Cas nodded firmly and waved his wristband at the door and they stepped out.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

The elevator doors swished open as the usual cool female voice announced the Grand Concourse and Dean peered out anxiously, worried he had missed Cas and Jimmy coming down. Surely, they would have figured out by now that something was amiss and tried to find other people, just as Dean had that first day.

 

He had overslept this morning, having passed out hard after his mostly sleepless night and thus snoozed through the first two times the alarm had gone off. He finally woke up, dazed and disoriented on the third time, before stumbling hurriedly out of bed to quickly shower before throwing on relatively clean clothing. Not bothering to shave or comb his hair and only just remembering to gargle with some mouthwash before tearing out of his suite. Dean was frantically looking down each corridor he passed, at the same time dreading and hoping he'd catch sight of them.

 

However, the halls had been as empty as ever, and Dean was starting to feel a little crazy, maybe he'd only imagined waking them up. Yeah, maybe it was all just a nightmare and he hadn't actually done this huge, terrible thing that he couldn't take back and the twins were still peacefully slumbering away as they rightfully should be.

 

This notion was quickly dismissed when Dean ventured further out from the elevator. The tall, circular waterfall had been activated, and since only human movement could accomplish that, Dean knew they were nearby.

 

Even as Dean noticed this, he heard soft, low voices and saw blurry shapes obscured through the waterfall. The quiet susurrus of the water tinkling into the pool translated as white noise, hiding Dean from the twins and vice versa. He froze and held his breath in anticipation, wondering if he should call out or let them gradually notice him. It had been so long since he had been around other real, live humans, he'd almost forgotten how to act. His people skills were definitely rusty, so this was sure to be a crash course in re-honing them.

 

He was still standing stationary, panicking and trying to decide what to do, when suddenly the decision was taken out of his hands as the twins rounded the circular edge of the waterfall, conversing in distressed tones, oblivious to Dean's presence.

 

Dean was almost glad he was null, because the scent of two highly distressed omegas probably would have sent his alpha hindbrain into a frenzy of need. Compelling him to comfort them, which seeing as he was a stranger, would have been distinctly uncomfortable for all parties involved. It didn't stop him from scenting the air cautiously, coming up with nothing, as he'd known he would.

 

Dean let out the breath he had been holding in what must have been a loud, gusty gasp, because the twins glanced up as one, shocked into silence for a few brief moments, immobilized at his abrupt appearance, as though they thought he was a mirage or just another hologram.

 

God, they were even more breathtakingly beautiful in full, living color. Blue eyes staring in surprise, pretty pink mouths gaping, lithe bodies poised for fight or flight.

 

“Hey,” Dean called out, somewhat awkwardly, seeming to break the spell that held the twins in place.

 

Together, in stride, they marched over to him, stumbling to a halt only a few feet from Dean.

 

Dean was like, 85% sure it was Jimmy, when the one twin in the black leather jacket, grey henley and dark jeans uttered a breathless, “Hi!”

 

Smiling at them in welcome, Dean tried hard to not give off a crazy or guilty vibe, though he wasn't sure he succeeded.

 

“Are you passenger or crew?” Demanded the other twin in a gravelly rough voice that Dean had only ever heard through the distortion of video and in his dreams. It just had to be Cas, in his white button-down, black slacks, sensible shoes and tan trenchcoat. Sadly, no blue tie, Dean noted.

 

They were _real_. And they were really _here_. Dean wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Laugh joyfully because it was so wonderful to talk to another human being in general, but especially _these_ two humans. Yet, he also wanted to cry in sorrow and regret because he'd stolen away their lives, they just didn't know it yet.

 

“Passenger,” Dean answered huskily, voice still a little croaky after so much disuse. “Dean Winchester.”

 

“I'm Jimmy and this is Castiel, we're the Novaks.” Jimmy offered, gesturing at his brother.

 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, reaching forward to shake Dean's hand.

 

“Hey, Castiel, Jimmy, nice to meet you.” Dean barely managed to leave off the ' _finally'_ and hoped it couldn't be heard, even though it was heavily implied.

 

Dean took his proffered hand and repressed a shiver he hoped Cas couldn't feel through their point of contact when Cas's hand slid into his and gripped it in a handshake for a few precious seconds, before releasing him and then Dean grasped Jimmy's hand as well, experiencing the same shivery warmth as he had with Cas.

 

They all took a step back after the introductions, but weren't quiet for long, Jimmy quickly asking, “Do you know what's going on? We haven't seen anyone since we woke up and when we reported for our Learning Group classes this morning, no one else was there. Where is everyone?”

 

Jimmy spilled all of this out in rapid fire succession and Cas put a calming hand on his shoulder to steady his little brother, who seemed on the edge of hyperventilating, and who could blame him?

 

“The crew is supposed to wake up a month before we do, but we haven't seen anybody,” Cas clarified in more placid a tone than his brother, but still with an undercurrent of worry running through it.

 

Dean stared at them for a moment, still having a hard time believing they were actually here, before explaining softly, “The crew and all other passengers besides the three of us, are still asleep.”

 

The twins' eyes widened into matching sets of blue marbles. “Are you saying _nobody_ is awake?” Jimmy exclaimed, a definite note of pure panic entering his voice.

 

“Just me...and the two of you, now.” Dean admitted, hating to have to watch the realization dawn in their lovely blue eyes.

 

“Just you?” Cas queried.

 

“It's just us,” Dean said, nodding.

 

“But somebody's gotta land the ship in a few weeks!” Jimmy protested.

 

Dean tried not to sigh too heavily. Here was the part he'd been dreading, well, the beginning of it, anyways. It always worked better when you did the “show” portion of “show and tell” right off the bat.

 

“You need to come with me and look at something.”

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Dean led Cas and Jimmy to the Observatory room, very much aware of them holding hands as they trailed behind him, murmuring in agitation.

 

The same overly dramatic orchestral fanfare blared and then the deep male baritone voice came on, just like before, asking what it could show them and yet again, Dean asked to be shown New Hope IV, and then asked where they were in relation to it, while the twins gazed around in wonderment.

 

“We will arrive in approximately 89 years,” the baritone voice informed them dispassionately, uncaring of dropping the same bombshell on Cas and Jimmy as it had on Dean over a year ago.

 

Dean felt nausea overtake him at the sheer wave of déja vu that he was drowning in right now, but struggled to push it down. There were more important things, more important _people_ , to think about right now, than his own existential crisis, which he could obsess and cry over later in the sanctuary of his room. He had to be strong for Cas and Jimmy, he owed them that much anyways.

 

“Eighty-nine years?!” The twins echoed in unison, staring in bewilderment at the images of New Hope IV and Earth, with the same golden line connecting them and a smaller representation of the _Impala_ and her current position between the two.

 

“The other passengers aren't late waking up,” Dean said gravely. “We were early.”

 

Cas and Jimmy transferred their stunned and dismayed gazes from the star system they'd never reach, to Dean, their upset turning into a plea.

 

“We...we need help...” Jimmy whispered, his eyes darting from Cas to Dean. “Where's the crew?”

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Dutifully, Dean silently led Cas and Jimmy down to the crew quarters.

 

“The crew is in a secure hibernation room. Everything important, the controls, the reactors, the engines...it's all behind impenetrable firewalls, there's no way through,” Dean related, once they arrived.

 

The vault-like door was dented and blackened from his hours of trying to break in, a few of his tools and some of his gear still scattered about from whenever he got the urge to wail on an inanimate object, which was quite often, even now.

 

Dean stared steadily at Cas and Jimmy, trying to gauge their reactions as they absorbed the area with keen eyes, observing the torches, drills and sledgehammers lying around, not to mention all the copious damage the door bore.

 

Cas was the first to lift his head and look at Dean head-on, understanding and sympathy swimming in his sapphire eyes.

 

“How...how long have you been awake?” Cas rasped out. Next to him, Jimmy glanced up sharply and also fixed his eyes on Dean, awaiting his answer.

 

Dean shrank a bit under the weight of their scrutiny, feeling undeserving of their concern, but told them the truth. “About a year and three weeks.”

 

The twins both paled at this statement, Jimmy especially appeared overwhelmed, he slumped into Cas's shoulder and started panting as if he couldn't catch his breath. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!!” He muttered as if repeating the word would magically make it true.

 

Cas wrapped an arm around his twin's shoulder, pressing Jimmy's face into the crook of his neck and pinned Dean with a look of empathy all while comforting his brother, who was still mumbling indistinctly against Cas's throat.

 

Dean longed to crowd in and gather Cas and Jimmy up in his arms, to hug and kiss them and assure them everything would be alright. But it wasn't his place, and he could make no such assurances. Or rather, any he did offer would only be empty promises that weren't worth the breath required to make them. So he stayed where he was, even though it pained him greatly and tried his best to project an air of support and calmness.

 

Abruptly, Jimmy wrenched away from Cas's hold, exclaiming, “No, this can't be happening! We have to go back to sleep!”

 

Wild-eyed, Jimmy shot off down the corridor, running as fast as he could, Cas following close on his heels, trying to catch up to his twin.

 

“No, we can't--Cas! Jimmy!” Dean shouted in vain, but despair was overtaking him, he knew he had to let this play out, allow them the room to explore every avenue, just as he first had.

 

Reconciled to the situation, Dean jogged after them, eventually tracking them to the passenger hibernation deck.

Jimmy and Cas had just reached the general area, but not the exact location of their pod and Jimmy was babbling, “We just have to get back into our pods and start them up again!”

 

Cas was attempting to calm him down, but Dean could see that even he was beginning to get scared. Dean's heart ached for them. He had done this to them, this was all his fault.

 

Dean caught up to them, huffing a little, as Jimmy spun around in a circle, “Where's our pod? Where is it?! I can't find it!! I don't know which... _Cas,_ _help me_!! Oh, god, what are we gonna do if we can't find it?” Jimmy's voice had gone up several octaves in hysteria and he was gasping for air, looking around frantically.

 

Dean edged forward nervously, “It doesn't matter--” he started to say as Cas was trying to subdue Jimmy, but the younger twin broke away, sprinting down the aisle, hell-bent on finding their pod.

 

Castiel and Dean both took off after Jimmy, who was zig-zagging around, desperately trying to pinpoint the pod, “I can't find it! Which one is it?!” Jimmy yelled angrily.

 

“Jimmy, stop! Stop, dammit!” Cas called out fiercely, nearly colliding with his twin when Jimmy unexpectedly stopped short, flailing a bit, but then Cas got his arms around him, restraining Jimmy, shooting a helpless glance at Dean, who hesitantly came up and wrapped his arms about Jimmy as well, the two of them forming a human straitjacket around the younger man.

 

“I'll help you find it, but it doesn't matter,” Dean whispered gently to them.

 

The twins drew back slightly, and Dean dropped his arms and stepped back as well, not wanting to, but knowing he should.

 

“What do you mean?” Jimmy asked, tears clogging his voice. Cas cocked his head, gazing at Dean pleadingly.

 

Wordlessly, Dean beckoned to them, following the winding path that was burned into his memory, but taking a roundabout way so it wouldn't look too suspicious.

 

Presently, they all wound up in front of the twins' double pod, Cas and Jimmy staring down at it hopefully.

 

Oh, how Dean hated to burst their bubble. He cleared his throat. “Y'see, it doesn't matter because putting somebody into hibernation requires special equipment.”

 

The hope drained out of Cas's eyes before Dean even finished his sentence, but Jimmy still looked expectant, so Dean continued on, striving to break the news gently. “Remember the facility where they put us under, all the procedures they put us through?”

 

The twins both nodded, Cas in resignation, but Jimmy a bit uncomprehendingly.

 

“These pods are designed to keep us in hibernation, to wake us up at the right time, but they can't put us back to sleep,” Dean tried to make clear. He knew Cas and Jimmy were both exceptionally smart, but it was a proven fact that when you were scared or panicked, your brain seemed to fly right out the window.

 

“So, you don't think there's a way back into hibernation?”Jimmy verified, glancing between Cas and Dean forlornly.

 

Dean wished he had another answer, but was forced to give the only one he knew to be true. “No.”

 

Jimmy shook his head, clearly in denial. “But there has to be! There has to be! Right? Cas? You're a doctor, you know about these procedures, there's another way, right?”

 

Cas gazed at his twin with so much heartfelt love and sadness, that Dean wanted to just go fling himself into the sun for being the one to put that look on his face, for being the one to cause poor Jimmy such distress.

 

Cas drew Jimmy close, gently shushing him and petting a hand through his unruly dark hair. “We'll figure something out, sweetheart, we always do.”

 

Dean bit down harshly on his own tongue just to keep from breaking down in tears and blubbering out the whole terrible truth, throwing himself on their tender mercies and damn the consequences, he'd take whatever they dished out.

 

Cas broke his negative train of thought with a hand on Dean's arm. “Thank you for everything. I think it'd be best if we go back to our room for awhile and...try to process all this.” Dean nodded, outwardly agreeable, a little space would be good for all of them, of course, but his alpha hindbrain did not want to let these two precious omegas out of his sight for long.

 

Cas squeezed his bicep, trying to comfort Dean as well, and the alpha nearly started crying, shame for his actions and just revulsion for himself in general, swamping him. How dare he accept comfort from one of the men he had so grievously wronged?

 

 _Fuck_. If there was a Hell, then Dean was well on his way there, full speed ahead.

 

Giving Dean a shaky smile, Cas guided his brother away and Dean watched them despondently until they disappeared from his sight.

 

Well, _shit_. That had gone just about as well as he'd expected it to. Which was to say, not fucking well at all.

 

Wearily, Dean headed back to his suite, resigned to waiting some more until Cas and Jimmy came to seek his company, which, though he totally didn't deserve it, he craved anyways.

 

Worn out from the veritable emotional rollercoaster ride that the day had been so far, Dean gratefully crawled into bed, tuning the holographic screen to a picturesque cabin deep in an evergreen forest somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Crickets chirped lowly in the purple-blue twilight and a warm, golden glow lit the windows from within.

 

Wistfully, Dean imagined himself there, in another time, another universe, maybe as another man entirely, a good man, a good alpha, who never could have done this to two such, wonderful, exceptional, _innocent_ people. He visualized Cas and Jimmy both there with him, happy and carefree and then slammed his eyes shut to the scene, for it made his heart clench so brutally Dean thought for a moment he was having a heart-attack. Gasping, he did his best to breathe past the pain, relishing it, even as he knew he was deserving of far worse, he also had no right to envision them all together in such a contented setting. Turning his head, he bit his pillow to muffle the sobs that he couldn't seem to keep contained.

 

Vaguely, Dean thought that he probably hadn't cried as much in his entire life as he had during this last year. The revelation made him cringe in shame and humiliation. Some alpha he was, weeping like a little bitch over being sad and lonely. Making shitty decisions that just drug more people down with him so he didn't have to feel bad alone.

 

Like many decisions, the repercussions were only really clearly defined after the deed was done, as Dean was discovering, much to his deep remorse and everlasting regret.

 

If it hadn't been so horrible, it might have been funny; Dean Winchester was being torn apart by his feelings.

 

On the one hand, it fulfilled every single desire of his heart and more, to see the twins, awake, animated and achingly beautiful, they were more perfect than he could have imagined, and yet, he wished to God he had left them as they belonged, slumbering and awaiting their arrival to their new life. In a way, he was almost back to square one, like before he had originally stumbled across them, unable to live with himself any longer.

 

Only now, he didn't dare contemplate the sweet release of the Big Empty; he had done this thing, set it in motion and if he did nothing else, he would see it through, do whatever he could to help them, do anything they asked of him. He could deny them _nothing_.

 

And if they found out the truth, eventually, as they were bound to, there was no _if_ , only _when_ , then he would hand himself over to them, they could do what they liked, his life, as little as it was worth, was unequivocally, _theirs_.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Cas felt bad about leaving the alpha standing there, all alone, by himself once again, (God, a whole _year_ in isolation!) but knew that his priority number one had to be his brother right now.

 

There would be time later to get to know Dean, indeed, time was all they had, if Dean was to be believed and there was no way to return to hibernation. Dean seemed bright and Cas was sure that if there had been a way to reverse the process, he would have figured it out by now.

 

Cas wasn't sure _why_ he was so certain of this, but Dean just seemed to exude an air of capable, strong alpha. Which at a time like this, even though Cas wasn't a stereotypical, wilting omega, always needing help, he still took comfort from it. They were in no condition to turn down help or comfort, he and Jimmy could use all they could get if they were going to get thru this whole nightmare intact.

 

At his side, Jimmy was limp and unresponsive, passively letting Cas lead him back to their room. It didn't take long and Cas hurriedly swiped his wristband at the door, ushering them inside when it opened, letting out a shaky breath and leaning against the wall with Jimmy cradled in his arms protectively.

 

“Do you want to lie down?” Cas asked his twin softly.

 

Jimmy kept his face tucked into the hollow of Cas's throat and didn't reply. Cas sighed lightly and kissed the crown of his younger brother's head before pushing off from the wall and guiding Jimmy over to their bed. Settling him on it, Cas peeled off Jimmy's shoes, socks, jeans and jacket, leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt, then stripped down similarly and crawled onto the bed too. Gathering Jimmy in against his chest, Cas reached down and pulled the comforter folded at the bottom of the bed up over the two of them while Jimmy burrowed into his embrace.

 

They laid there quietly for a long time, not talking, but not asleep either, just holding on to each other, as if for dear life.

 

All Cas wanted to do was just go to sleep and forget about everything for a few hours, but his mind was too busy processing furiously to allow the relative inactivity of sleep and he was sure Jimmy was in the same boat most likely.

 

A couple hours passed before Jimmy finally spoke up. “I know...I should be trying to work the problem here, but I'm still having trouble wrapping my mind around this situation...and I'm so tired, too. This...whole thing...it's like something out of a bad sci-fi novel. This can't really be happening, can it?”

 

His voice was cracked and dry, so Cas drew back a little to grab a glass of the pink drink leftover from this morning, passing it to Jimmy, urging him to sit up a bit so he wouldn't spill it all over himself.

 

Cas was still trying to parse out their circumstances too, and wasn't quite sure what to tell him. Of course the whole thing sounded far-fetched, but to the best of his knowledge, it was definitely happening. And while Cas knew that Jimmy had been asking rhetorically, none of that was necessarily comforting, which was what Jimmy was looking for, so Cas fell back on his medical training, focusing on smaller issues he _could_ solve.

 

“We just came out of hibernation. It's going to be a couple more days before we're both totally at 100%, we should really try to get some rest right now, then we can tackle this problem and, as you like to say, 'kick it in the ass!' Sound good?” Cas threw up the finger quotes that he knew always made Jimmy laugh and mock him for being a nerd, in hopes of injecting a little levity into their mood.

 

Jimmy smiled lopsidedly, still worried and pale looking, but nodded, taking a few more sips before offering the cup to Cas, who drank the rest and set the glass back on the bedside table. They snuggled back down, Jimmy cuddling into Cas like he wanted to crawl inside him and hide forever.

 

At length, Jimmy spoke up again. “More than a year, I can't even imagine, that must have been so hard for him.” It took Cas a moment to realize he was referring to Dean, but once he did, he hummed in agreement, not surprised that he and Jimmy had shared the same thought about the alpha.

 

“I can't imagine a year, let alone the rest of our lives,” Cas mused, combing his fingers through Jimmy's messy locks.

 

Jimmy shivered in response and wrapped his arm around Cas's waist tightly. “Promise me we're gonna fix this, Cas, please? Promise.”

 

Cas sighed heavily. He wasn't one for making un-keepable promises. “I can't guarantee anything right now, sweetheart, everything is so uncertain, I want to believe we can fix it, but...” Cas trailed off, wishing he had a better answer.

 

“I know...” Jimmy's voice was wobbly. “Just promise we'll do everything we possibly can, okay?”

 

Cas never could deny him anything. “Okay, I promise.”

 

He swallowed roughly past the lump rising up in his throat and felt hot liquid welling behind his eyes, but blinked it back, he had to stay strong for Jimmy, after all, he was the oldest, even if it was only by fourteen minutes.

 

However, Jimmy wasn't fooled and only hugged him even tighter.

 

“I'd go crazy if you weren't here right now, you know that, right? I can't do this without you, Cas,” Jimmy whispered brokenly, desperation lining his tone.

 

Cas bobbed his head feverishly, his brother's soft hair brushing against his lips as he hugged Jimmy back, letting him know that he felt the same, but not trusting himself to speak, for fear he might break down, which wasn't something he could afford to do, not now.

 

There was only silence after that and presently, Jimmy drifted off with a mumbled “love you,” his lips tickling humidly against Cas's throat.

 

Unfortunately for him, Cas's brain continued to tick over for another hour, like an engine refusing to cool down, as he thought up and then discarded different solutions to their unique predicament. He resolved to pick Dean's brain the next day and find out absolutely everything he could about their situation. With that thought, he finally starting feeling drowsy, as though having determined a course of action for the next day, his mind was satisfied that they'd done all they could and was granting him rest.

 

Burying his face in Jimmy's hair, where, unless he was mistaken, he was starting to catch a hint of his roses and rainwater scent, Cas smiled at this small gift and fell asleep.

 

 

Day 3~

 

 

The next day dawned much the same as all the ones before it, only this time, when Dean woke, yeah, he was bombarded by the usual depression and crushing guilt, but tucked alongside all that, was also a spark of hope.

 

Cas and Jimmy were awake and he was no longer alone.

 

Having forcibly thrown two more people into the equation, the possibilities were now endless, and as fucked up as that sounded, it gave Dean hope. Who knew what would happen now?

 

A very nasty little voice piped up loudly to tell him that he knew _exactly_ what was coming next, but Dean consciously and a mite viciously, shoved it down.

 

Obviously, he felt undeniably torn over this development, (though he wasn't comparing himself to Hitler _quite_ yet) what he had done was beyond wrong, definitely in “morally reprehensible” territory, but it was impossible to ignore the overwhelming flood of relief at no longer having to live in isolation, of having someone to share the burden with.

 

Which, again, made him feel horrendously shitty, in fact, he'd never really thought much about or truly understood that old saying “Misery loves company,” until now.

 

Last night after tossing and turning for hours, he'd eventually given up and padded down to the bar for some booze and a little perspective. He knew he was disregarding his vow not to drink, but figured it would be easier to stop at just one if he made sure he didn't do it alone.

 

Balthazar had been polishing his customary glass as usual and the same canned jazz as always played mellowly in the background.

 

Dean eased himself into a chair as Balthazar glided over to him. “Well?” He asked, arching an expectant eyebrow.

 

“Whiskey, neat.” Dean ordered, somewhat subdued, folding his hands on the bar; they were trembling minutely and he wasn't sure if it was nerves or a lack of sleep, though probably it was both.

 

Balthazar whirred off to fulfill his request, returning with a bottle of Chivas Regal 12-year-old Blended Scotch Whiskey and a mid-sized tumbler.

 

“Thought we'd try something different for a change, hmm?” Balthazar coaxed.

 

Dean nodded glumly, at this point, whiskey was whiskey, he didn't really care, but appreciated the gesture.

 

“So...how's your day been?” Balthazar inquired solicitously, as he poured out two fingers of whiskey for Dean's sampling pleasure.

 

Dean glanced up at the bartender a bit timidly, almost expecting a reprisal, but settled for the truth. “Cas and Jimmy are awake.”

 

“Congratulations,” Balthazar smiled cordially, as though Dean had just told him he'd won a promotion at work or gotten engaged, not just woken up two people from hibernation and basically ruined their lives.

 

Balthazar eyed the glass in Dean's hand questioningly and Dean got the hint.

 

He took a sip of the whiskey. It was good, strong with a hint of sweetness, with a smoky, peaty afterburn.

 

Dean approved. Idly, he wondered if Jimmy and Cas might like it, too. He smiled wanly at the bartender and raised his glass to him. “Good choice.”

 

Guilt coursed through him abruptly though and Dean's smile slipped from his face.

 

“You don't look happy,” Balthazar noted in mild surprise.

 

Downcast, Dean stared into the dregs of his glass, before glancing back up at the bartender imploringly.

 

“Balthazar, can you keep a secret?”

 

Placing a hand against his chest and looking a tad wounded, as though Dean had just challenged his honor or some shit, Balthazar replied earnestly, “Dean. I am not just a bartender, I'm also a gentleman.”

 

Under different circumstances, Dean would have found this pretty damn funny coming from an android, but as it was, he was too eaten up with self-reproach to appreciate it at the moment.

 

“Don't tell Cas and Jimmy that I woke them up.” Dean whispered quietly, feeling mildly paranoid that he might be overheard. “They think it was an accident...so...just..let me tell them, in my own time, alright?”

 

“Of course,” Balthazar nodded firmly, as though Dean hadn't just made him an unwitting accomplice to the worst thing he had ever done.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Dean had finished off his drink and headed back upstairs after that, managing a few hours of sleep before his alarm, which was still set from the day before, woke him.

 

Sluggishly, he arose, showered, shaved and made himself presentable, steeling himself for the day to come.

 

There would be denial and anger, no doubt another emotional rollercoaster ride of a day. He knew once they had rested, Cas and Jimmy would be full of questions and looking to Dean as their font of knowledge. As if he hadn't already exhausted every avenue of escape. But, as he kept reminding himself, they had to be allowed to do the same and maybe, just maybe, they'd think of something Dean had missed. After all, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Cas awoke with a gasp, the edges of a nightmare slipping away back into the depths of his subconscious, as his gaze darted around wildly while his brain worked to come back online. Jimmy grumbled unhappily, but didn't wake, still tucked against Cas's chest, so he tried to calm down for his brother's sake.

 

Shushing Jimmy gently and running a hand through his perennial bedhead, Cas eased back into the pillows, waiting for his racing heart-rate to slow into a more normal rhythm. The events of the last couple days slowly fell into place and Cas felt his stomach drop with despair.

 

He tried to take comfort in reminding himself of his plan to confer with Dean and find out all the details pertinent to their situation, but it didn't perk him up as much as he'd hoped it would. Straining a bit to see the bedside clock, he realized it was still quite early and there was no sense in being awake right now, so he forced himself to drift back to sleep.

 

The twins both awoke a few hours later to the sound of their alarm and with bellies grumbling hungrily, since they hadn't eaten anything but the protein bars and pink drink of the previous morning, they decided to head down to the communal dining room to see what they could scrounge up.

 

Cas noticed that, thankfully, Jimmy seemed more composed this morning, evidently the rest had done him a world of good; he was a little extra clingy, but Cas too, took great comfort in the power of touch, especially from his twin.

However, while Jimmy appeared relatively bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Cas, on the other hand, still felt a bit muzzy and groggy, but wasn't sure if it was due to a hibernation hangover or to the dire straits of their circumstances.

 

Nevertheless, he resolved to put on a strong face for Jimmy and make good on his promise to investigate every possible scenario for fixing this mess.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

The elevator alighted on the Grand Concourse and Dean was greeted with the sound of an annoyed, raised voice.

Worried, Dean hurried over to find Jimmy and Cas in front of the Infomat, where Jimmy was, understandably, starting to get frustrated with the Infomat's particular brand of “help.”

“How can there be no way to put someone back in hibernation? What if a pod breaks down?” Jimmy demanded, as the Infomat shuffled around all its little glowing blue hexagons, probably hoping to find one that would catch Jimmy's eye.

 

“No hibernation pod has ever malfunctioned in thousands of interstellar flights,” the Infomat replied firmly.

 

“Well, _obviously_ , that's a _load of shit_ because we're awake, _duh_!” Jimmy spat out scathingly as Cas put a calming hand on his shoulder, neither of them having noticed Dean yet, who was hanging back, not wanting to crowd the twins and enjoying Jimmy's abuse of the Infomat.

 

“Hibernation pods are fail-safe!” The Infomat reiterated staunchly. With a pissed off huff, Jimmy whirled around, Cas close behind him and they caught sight of Dean.

 

“Good morning,” Dean offered temperately, trying not to totally bow to his alpha's need to calm and soothe the distressed omegas, but unable to completely deny it. “Have you eaten?”

 

“No, and we're starving!” Jimmy answered for them both, somewhat petulantly. Cas gave Dean a tired smile and nodded in agreement with his brother.

 

“Okay,” Dean said with a chuckle, beckoning the twins to follow him.

 

“By the way, that is the dumbest machine!” Jimmy fairly growled, gesturing at the Infomat as they headed towards the communal dining room, Cas close by his side.

 

Behind them, the Infomat called out, “Happy to help!” And Dean didn't even have to look to know that its perpetual smiley face was in place. Jimmy was just another satisfied passenger in the Infomat's opinion, such as it was, being a machine and all.

 

A guttural snarl sounded next to him and Dean had to hide his smirk at Jimmy's outburst. Glancing over, he locked eyes with Cas for a moment, who looked as though he was fighting to do the same.

 

Dean was so caught up in sharing a moment with Cas, that he didn't notice the Infomat suddenly glitching behind them, the images frozen and twitching, pixelating out of focus, the friendly male voice turning robotic, before the whole thing blipped out entirely, going dark.

 

Elsewhere, in the command ring, yet another error report appeared on the holo-screen, detailing a critical error with the Infomat, adding to the half a dozen reports already displayed, telling of glitches happening all over the ship, issues with the elevators, the floor-cleaning robots, not to mention the two hibernation pod malfunctions. The alarms all beeped loudly and urgently, calling for help, but no one came. The systems of the _Impala_ continued in vain to self-repair to the best of their ability.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

In the communal dining room, Dean was already seated at a table with his large french roast and meager tray of what looked and tasted like...a rice ball...maybe?

 

He tried not to stare too blatantly at Cas and Jimmy, oblivious in their own little bubble, but they seemed to be extra touchy-feely this morning, practically plastered against each other. He assumed it was a matter of comfort and besides it didn't bother him, he was glad to see they were close, drawing reassurance from each other. Dean didn't want to torture himself by thinking about it too hard, but it seemed more likely than ever that his original assumptions were correct, in that, the twins were _together_. He also tried not to pine too hard to be the filling of the enviable sandwich that Cas and Jimmy made up.

 

The twins were still fussing with the food simulator, trying to decide which of the fancy coffees they wanted to sample and hadn't even picked a breakfast yet.

 

Dean glanced up wistfully when he heard Cas successfully order the Glazed Donut Cappuccino, but ducked his head again just as quickly. He didn't deserve good things. Not after what he'd done. He'd take his french roast and shut up.

After a few minutes, Cas and Jimmy returned to the table, setting down trays loaded with what looked like omelettes stuffed with cheese, ham and veggies, stacks of pancakes dripping with butter and maple syrup, small mountains of crispy bacon and fruit cups filled with kiwi, grapes, mango and strawberries, plus, of course, steaming cups of fancy coffee.

 

To his everlasting embarrassment, Dean's belly yowled hungrily and he tried to keep the drooling to a minimum. He'd never gotten any of that out of the food simulator!

 

Plopping down across from him, the twins stared at Dean's paltry tray of food in confusion. “Well, you're a man of simple tastes,” Jimmy remarked as he took a sip of his Cinnamon Coffee Cake Delight.

 

“I'm not a Gold-Class passenger,” Dean explained, hoping he didn't look and sound _too_ pathetic. “I guess the 'Rustic Country Breakfast' is above my pay grade,” he added with a wink as he choked down his rice ball, chasing it with a swallow of french roast.

 

“What? This whole time?!” Cas sounded outraged on Dean's behalf and Jimmy's mouth hung open in shock.

 

“You've been living on _that_ the _whole_ time?!” Jimmy exclaimed looking askance at the rice ball Dean was finishing up.

 

“No...It's okay guys, I'm fine.” Dean assured, waving off their concern.

 

“No, it's not. What can we get you?” Cas pressed, his face scrunched up in worry. Not waiting for Dean's answer, Jimmy jumped up, and Cas followed after him, both of them striding purposefully over to the simulator.

 

Dean tucked his chin down against his chest, trying to hide his sappy grin, swamped by gratitude and guilt. They were too good to be true. And definitely too damn good for him.

 

About a minute later they came back, triumphantly bearing a large tray laden with all of Dean's favorite breakfast treats. Fluffy scrambled eggs, a heap of crispy bacon and a pile of sausage links, perfectly fried hashbrowns and last but not least, a sweet little stack of silver dollar pancakes, topped with whipped cream and strawberries.

 

Dean thought he might actually cry over this abundance of food porn. He gazed up at the twins in awe, unable to speak. Jimmy beamed at him as Cas set down a steaming mug of coffee with a thick layer of foam in front of him.

 

“It's the same thing I ordered for myself, the Glazed Donut Cappuccino. It's good, I hope you like it,” Cas told him earnestly, looking a bit shy.

 

Dean stared at the coffee as though it was his very own personal Holy Grail. God, he had wanted this frickin' coffee for over a year! Reverently, he picked up the mug and just breathed in the steam for a moment, before taking a tentative sip.

 

“Mmmm...oh God that's so fucking _good_...” Dean would have been ashamed of his probably pornographic moaning any other time, but damn, it was too heavenly for him to care much right now, even with Jimmy giggling at him, most likely due to his porn noises and foamy mustache.

 

Wiping his mouth and looking up to see the twins smiling happily at him, Cas especially, looking lightly flushed and supremely pleased that Dean liked his choice in coffee. Dean smiled back shakily, winded by their generosity, feeling a lone tear trickle down his cheek, knowing he didn't deserve jack squat from them, let alone their concern and a gourmet spread like this.

 

Swiping it away hastily, he dropped his gaze to the delicious breakfast waiting for him, startling slightly when Cas leaned in and squeezed his hand and said, “Please eat something, you need your strength.”

 

Dean felt frozen at the simple touch. Apart from when he shook hands with the twins yesterday and the brief moments when he had helped Cas calm Jimmy down, no one had laid a hand on him in months; much like the coffee, it felt heavenly, filling him with warmth from his head to his toes.

 

Cas smiled at him kindly and with a final squeeze to his hand, drew back, appearing a little embarrassed, as though worried he had overstepped his bounds. But Dean returned his smile, before looking both Cas and Jimmy in the eye and saying as sincerely as he could, “Thanks for this you guys.”

 

“No problem,” Jimmy managed around a large bite of pancake. Dean grinned at him and followed his example, unwrapping his silverware and tucking in. There was more porn-worthy moaning as Dean plowed his way through his plate. He'd almost forgotten how goddamn good bacon was!

 

It wasn't like he hadn't had anything to eat this whole time, the virtual restaurants elsewhere on the Grand Concourse served fantastic dinners of five-star quality cuisine of any culture you could dream up, which Dean had definitely taken advantage of. However, only the food simulator did breakfast and lunch and since Dean had been denied Gold-Class passenger privileges (for which he blamed Dick Roman for such a mean, shitty little oversight; it wasn't like Dean didn't have the money!) he had missed out on his favorite meal of the day, breakfast; instead reduced to rice balls, bran muffins and crappy cereal day after day.

 

Also, for awhile, he'd lost his appetite completely, notably ever since he'd gone null. And then there was the all-alcohol diet he'd indulged in as a coping mechanism for a period of time. But today, it was like his tastebuds had all been regrown and food tasted like brand new, as though he'd never had it before, which was a fucking miracle, but hey, Dean was not about to look a gift-horse in the mouth. And of course, the most important thing of all that could not be discounted, was the company of real, live humans.

 

The twins devoured their own meals with healthy appetites as well, and it wasn't until their plates were nearly licked clean that Jimmy piped up.

 

“So, I was thinking, maybe there's another way to go to sleep. What about the infirmary?” Jimmy asked, shoving his empty plate aside and picking up his coffee, looking to Dean expectantly.

 

Dean shook his head regretfully and swallowed his last bite of sausage. “I checked it out already, it's just scanners and two AutoDocs.”

 

Jimmy frowned at that and Cas joined in on the conversation. “Is there maybe another hibernation machine in the cargo hold?”

 

“I had that thought too,” Dean admitted, savoring his last mouthful of Glazed Donut Cappuccino. “But I accessed the manifest and I looked in the hold. It's mostly building and medical supplies, farming implements, plants and trees, food, machines, trade goods and other odds and ends. Plus replacement parts for computers and engineering. I didn't see hide nor hair of any kind of hibernation machinery.”

 

“So what you're saying is, we're not going to find a hibernation facility in one of the boxes, is that right?” Jimmy surmised, looking beyond bummed.

 

“What about building our own?” Cas spoke up, causing Jimmy to brighten up a bit.

 

Dean again felt his face fall ruefully. “We can't.”

 

“Dean, you're not even trying!” Jimmy slapped his hand on the table agitatedly, attempting to rouse something from the alpha other than apathy and apparent negativity.

 

“Jimmy, I _have_ tried _everything_.” Dean said gently, unable to be upset with the younger omega. He knew how it felt to be helpless, powerless, to get shut down at every turn. “For over a year...I have...I tried everything.”

 

Dean closed his eyes tightly, trying not to remember all the times he'd thought he'd found something that might be a solution, only to have it fail. _Every_ single fucking time.

 

Opening his eyes, he saw Jimmy staring at him defiantly, face flushed pink and panting a little.

 

“Well...I'm not ready to give up!” Jimmy huffed and shoving his chair back from the table, he stormed off.

 

Feeling absolutely shitty, Dean didn't dare look up at Cas until the man nudged his ankle under the table, prompting him to meet Cas's gaze.

 

“I'm sure you tried everything you could, Dean.” Cas said gently, tone full of assurance and understanding. His compassion warmed Dean down to his very toes, but also made him remember everything else he had done, like trying to off himself and then eventually deciding to wake Cas and Jimmy, which led him right back to feeling shitty again.

 

“It's okay, Cas, I get it. I know how Jimmy feels and I'll do anything I can to help you guys,” Dean promised fervently.

Cas nodded before rising from his seat, presumably go after his brother, but paused and fitted his hand over the curve of Dean's left shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

 

“I know you will.”

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Again, Cas felt bad about abandoning the alpha to go after Jimmy, he seemed so forlorn. It had tugged at Cas's heartstrings to see his reaction to coffee and breakfast, things that he and Jimmy took for granted, but which had made Dean so happy, though he did have to admit to a small bit of preening over the fact that Dean had enjoyed the coffee he'd picked for him so much. Cas was unsure if it was his omega instincts that were prompting him to want to take care of and comfort the alpha, or if it was just simple empathy towards another human being. Either way, his most important concern was still his brother, he had to look after Jimmy's well-being first before anyone else's.

 

It wasn't hard to locate Jimmy, Cas just followed the sounds of clanging and angry exertion and ultimately found his brother banging away at the door to the bridge with some of Dean's discarded tools.

 

Jimmy's grey t-shirt stuck to him in some places with sweat and he was red in the face, from what looked like a combination of strenuous effort and fury.

 

Cas stood off to the side, just watching, understanding that Jimmy _needed_ to do this, to get it out of his system. He observed passively for over half an hour while his brother blew off steam, all the while his mind was whirring restlessly, flitting from one idea to another, discarding some and setting others aside to explore later, possibly with Dean's help. The alpha himself was nowhere to be seen, as if knowing without being told that Cas and Jimmy would come to him when they wanted his help and that he wasn't to interfere before that.

 

And when Jimmy finally started to tire, with tears of rage and frustration welling in his eyes, only then did Cas approach him, allowing Jimmy to slump against him as they sat down on the floor, propped up by the cool wall of the ship.

 

Cas kissed Jimmy's sweaty forehead and offered him a bottle of water that he'd taken from the dining room, which Jimmy chugged down wordlessly, leaning heavily against Cas's side. They sat in silence for a good long while, each lost to their own thoughts.

 

Presently though, Jimmy spoke up as he often did. “Why aren't you more upset about all this, Cas?”

 

Considering the question for a moment, Cas at last answered. “I can't think straight when I'm upset, and right now, thinking is more important than getting angry. If everything we try doesn't work, I guess then I'll get upset and take it out on some inanimate objects.” This last was said with a slight smile, which Jimmy half-heartedly returned, rubbing his cheek on his brother's shoulder.

 

“Alright, what should we check out next?” Jimmy conceded.

 

Cas pushed himself up off the floor and dusted the back of his jeans off before holding a hand out to his brother. “Shall we check out the infirmary?

 

Jimmy grasped his twin's outstretched hand and allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

Unable to truly stay away, and with honestly nothing better to do (well, nothing that he _wanted_ to do anyways), Dean watched the twins from afar as they left the bridge and headed towards the infirmary. He truly felt for Jimmy, just seeing him take out his rage on the unresponsive bridge door had made Dean ache in sympathy, remembering his own helpless animosity at the situation he'd found himself in at the beginning, especially when he'd realized it was irreversible.

 

Again, he experienced a crushing wave of self-loathing over the fact that he'd put two other people in the same set of circumstances that had nearly driven him insane, to the point of attempting suicide. Though he did envy the twins for having each other, a steady balance of give and take, offering comfort to each other and taking it in turns to be the strong one. He kept his distance and paid close attention as they prowled around the medical lab, rifling through the contents of drawers and checking things out, with Cas typing something on a small, handheld holo-tablet. They also poked around the AutoDocs, which looked nearly identical to the hibernation pods.

 

If you were ill or wounded, you simply climbed inside one and it performed a full body-scan, near instantly diagnosing whatever your ailment was and prescribing medication or medical procedures. There was an emergency mode, where if no doctors were available, it could perform emergency procedures such as CPR or ventricular fibrillation, even surgery. They were a scientific triumph and a medical marvel, but in Dean's humble opinion, nothing beat an actual human, fallible though they might be. Though lately, his trust in machines had also grown shaky.

 

From there, the twins migrated to the Steward's Quarters to search the ship's computer databases for any information that might be useful. Cas saw Dean lingering outside in the corridor and waved him in while Jimmy questioned the computer with increasing annoyance.

 

“Well, what about research articles? Are there any kind of technical documents?” Jimmy was asking as Dean sidled up.

 

“Hibernation technology is proprietary,” the computer informed smoothly, much to Jimmy's consternation.

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Jimmy growled. Dean had the feeling that the question was rhetorical, but couldn't help throwing in his two cents worth anyways. Anything to distract him from how sexy Jimmy looked when pissed off.

 

“It means Roman Enterprises doesn't want anyone else playing with their toys. That info will remain locked up forever, wouldn't want anyone one-upping them and making improvements to their patent,” Dean smirked bitterly, even as the computer talked over him. Cas glanced at him curiously at this statement, but didn't say anything.

 

“The following articles deal with the subject on a theoretical level.” Immediately, dozens of articles popped up. Cas looked them over speculatively, shrugged, then proceeded to download every single article to his holo-tablet.

 

“Planning on doing a little light reading?” Dean teased.

 

Cas blushed a little and nodded. “Leave no stone unturned, as they say.”

 

Dean nodded firmly and smiled back. “Good.” He might've given up, for now anyways, but the twins hadn't, they still had hope. Dean once again found himself envying them.

 

Although, Jimmy was starting to look as though it was time to go back to the bridge or crew quarters and continue beating on the doors again. How well Dean remembered that feeling!

 

Dean and Cas shared a look of understanding as Jimmy was muttering angrily under his breath and Dean decided that it was time to give them their space once more.

 

Cas appeared to realize this and assured Dean they'd see him later for dinner. There was no point in begrudging Cas and Jimmy the time they needed to come to terms with their situation, but even knowing this, it didn't make it any easier for Dean to separate himself from them. Their company was addicting. One might speculate that it was only because Dean had been isolated so long, devoid of human contact, that he would have felt this way about anyone, but he disagreed. Cas and Jimmy were special, two-of-one-kind, and Dean couldn't get enough.

 

It was as he was wandering through the Grand Concourse, unsure of whether he was going to return to his suite or maybe get a snack, that he came across one of the little floor-cleaning robots. The thing seemed to be on the fritz, repeatedly slamming itself into the wall without letup. It was a bit eerie, how it kept mindlessly ramming into the wall, scuffing it up. Like a zombie. Ha. A zombie robot. Was that a thing?

 

Dean stared at it, perplexed. This was the third one he had seen malfunctioning in the last two weeks alone. It seemed strange that they kept breaking down; he had successfully fixed the previous two and the others before them, so he figured he might as well get to work on this one too while the twins were...processing their lives, as it were.

 

Dean knew if he didn't keep busy he'd just get sucked into that spiraling vortex of shame, anger, guilt and self-hatred, making him of no use to anyone.

 

So approaching the defective robot, he reached down and disabled it, then picked up the machine and tucked it underneath his arm and headed for his workroom.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

 

The twins didn't come down for dinner, and even though he badly wanted to, Dean didn't seek them out, not even under the pretense of bringing them food or seeing if they needed anything. His alpha hindbrain railed at this, insisting that he had to go make sure his omegas were alright, it was his duty to provide for them. But he did his damnedest to eschew that urge with a firm hand, it was _not_ his place, they were _not_ his omegas and he was _not_ their alpha. It hurt him much more than he'd ever like to admit, but it was only the truth.

 

Dean may have woken Cas and Jimmy, but even though they were now awake and in close proximity, they were still just as far out of reach as before when they were still blissfully suspended in hibernation. All he could do now was try his best to respect their right to privacy, to deal with this life-changing event however they saw fit, even if that meant staying away.

 

Which, was a fucking laughable concept whenever Dean dared to dwell on it. Oh, yeah. What a fucking awesome job he'd done of respecting their rights.

 

Jesus _fuck_. He had violated them in one of the worst ways possible, unilaterally making a decision that had cut short the rest of their lives. His guilty conscience bashed him over the head with this knowledge at every turn, but his alpha hindbrain was able to ignore it easily enough and had no problem getting its pining and yearning on for the two delectable omegas. Dean was at critical mass levels of self-loathing, it was the Winchester Way after all and he was getting the full brunt of it now that he was sorta swearing off booze...at least for the most part.

 

Something was bound to break, sooner or later, and Dean was sure it would be him.

 

 

 

Day 4~

 

 

 

Cas woke with a start, another nightmare dissipating in a hazy fog. He patted around the mattress, seeking Jimmy's comforting warmth, but his twin was nowhere to be found. According to the clock on the bedside table, it was 4:36am, much too early to be up for no reason. Feeling irrationally panicky, since they were trapped on a starship in _space_ , there was _nowhere_ for Jimmy to be, except somewhere else on the ship, Cas rolled out of bed and ran out of their suite, on the prowl for his brother, scenting the air for that faint odor of rainwater and roses that was beginning to come back more strongly the longer they were awake.

 

He checked the communal dining room, thinking maybe Jimmy had gone for a snack, seeing as they had skipped dinner, something he now felt bad about. He had told Dean they'd see him for dinner, but neither Cas or Jimmy had been hungry, so they'd holed up in their room instead. Jimmy plugging in to the ship's databases wirelessly and running anything he could think of through the search engines, while Cas read through all the articles he'd downloaded on hibernation. Due to his work, he was already quite familiar with the whole theory, not to mention the practice of it too, but there were a few salient points that could possibly bear closer inspection that might be helpful.

 

However, the dining room was empty, save for a few floor-cleaning robots whizzing around, so Cas grabbed a couple of bottles of water, some granola bars and beef jerky from the simulator and carried on with his search. Which led him to the crew quarters and then to the bridge, in hopes that Jimmy had gone there to vent out more of his aggression, but there was no sign of his twin.

 

Just as Cas was truly starting to worry and was thinking of finding Dean's suite and seeking his help, in the distance, through the mostly sterile odors of the ship, he caught a scent he knew as well as his own. He followed it to its owner and the closer he got, the more clearly he could practically taste that sweet, fresh smell of ozone and rose oil, of rain falling in a rose garden. It suddenly struck him that if they were truly marooned aboard this ship, he'd never get to experience rainstorms or sunshine or fresh air, along with so many other things, ever again, for as long as he lived. This dismal thought brought a lump to his throat and a burning of saltwater behind his eyes. With difficulty, he swallowed down the lump and fisted his hands against his eyes, willing the smell of tears out of his scent. It wouldn't do to stress out and worry Jimmy anymore than he already was.

 

Cas found Jimmy in the Observatory, sitting in front of the giant observation window, gazing out into the star-filled darkness. His back was to Cas, a half drunk cup of coffee, presumably, and a holo-tablet sat next to him.

 

Jimmy didn't seem surprised to see him, nor apologetic that he'd disappeared from their bed without a trace, in fact, he barely glanced over at Cas when he sat down beside him. But Cas didn't take it personally, they were both having a difficult time adjusting to this new world view.

 

“Are you alright?” Cas inquired softly.

 

Jimmy snorted and rocked a little. “Don't ask stupid questions,” he grunted. Cas smirked at the old joke, it was a line from their grandfather's book series, _Supernatural_.

 

“Did you find a liquor store and drink it?” Cas asked flippantly.

 

“Not yet,” Jimmy scowled. “But I wouldn't say no to a drink right now.”

 

“So that's _not_ Irish coffee in your cup?”

 

“Sadly, no. Did you find anything in all those articles that might help us?” Jimmy probed tiredly.

 

“There were a few things that might be of import, I'll have to pull out all my own research and compare notes,” Castiel told him, keeping his tone light. “I'm far from giving up,” he assured Jimmy.

 

Jimmy huffed a little. “Yeah, unlike Dean. God, he won't even try!”

 

“Jimmy,” Cas chided, feeling the need to defend the alpha. “You don't know what he's been through. He's had a whole year and I believe him when he says he tried everything he could think of. You and I, we've always had each other, even when we had no one else. Think about it, he's been all _alone_ for a year, no one to talk to, no one to hug him and tell him things will work out, nothing. It's lucky he's not insane...or dead.”

 

Jimmy sighed in assent, scooting closer to Cas and leaning in to his warmth as Cas tugged him in with an arm around his shoulders. Jimmy hung his head for a few moments, then stared up into his brother's eyes. “You're right...I just...it scares me that we might get to that point, that we probably _will_ get to that point, where we've tried everything we can and still no dice and we're just...lost and broken.”

 

“The point where we have to admit defeat might come,” Cas admitted honestly, gazing down at his twin. There was no point beating around the bush. “But at least we won't be alone.”

 

Jimmy stared at him, processing this, then leaned in and fitted his lips to Cas's, kissing him til he was slightly breathless, cheeks a bit flushed and pupils enlarged. He cupped Cas's face in his hands, rubbing a thumb over the faint stubble on his cheeks; it was a face he knew even better than his own, even though it was, for all intents and purposes, the same. “Well, I guess that's all I can ask for.”

 

Cas placed his hand over Jimmy's on his cheek, pressing tightly, before a yawn caught him by surprise. Jimmy slowly stood, pulling Cas up with him, not letting go of his hand. “C'mon, let's go back to bed for a few hours, sleepyhead.”

 

Sharing indulgent smiles, they shuffled back to their suite. As long as they had each other, things didn't seem so bad.

 

 

 

Day 7~

 

 

Cas and Jimmy had spent the last few days, with Dean's help, basically retracing Dean's steps, going through all the same motions and possibilities as he had when he'd first learned he had awoken too soon and was stranded in space. Secretly, in his own mind, Dean was gratified and pleased that the twins had come up with much of the same theories and ideas as he had, not only did it speak of their shared brilliance, but it also spoke to Dean's, reassuring him that he'd thought of and tried every conceivable plan and still come up empty. So even though they all were still at square one, it managed to make Dean feel like less of a failure, knowing that even with the power of three smart, resourceful brains working together, they hadn't been able to do any better than he had all by himself.

 

The only thing that might be different this time, was that Cas may have found something in amongst his personal research and that of the theoretical articles on hibernation that he'd downloaded. Dean felt that Cas was the smartest of all three of them, no contest, at least in the book-smarts department. He hadn't said much and Dean got the impression that he didn't want to say anything until he was sure, since there was no point in getting all their hopes up unnecessarily if it wasn't going to work in the long run.

 

His hunch was proved correct.

 

“I thought I'd found something, a correlation, possibly, a way to re-calibrate our pods, but according to you, the malfunction is due to burnt out clock chips, which we have no replacements for since they have a lifetime guarantee and aren't supposed to suffer impairments like that in the first place. And even though I think I could probably jury-rig together most of what we would need to induce the hibernation process from the different drugs and such in the infirmary, I can't promise it would be fool-proof. Besides, we still don't have functional pods, so my idea wouldn't work anyways,” Cas admitted in quiet defeat to Dean at lunch that day.

 

Cas was purposely keeping his voice low so that Jimmy wouldn't hear them where he was over by the food simulator, having gone back for seconds, ravenous, after a morning of having Dean show him how to operate the plasma torch. Which, while educational and a good channel for his pent-up energy, was ultimately a fruitless endeavor, as Dean had already found out a year earlier. Still, it never hurt to try.

 

The meatball sub that Dean had been hungrily devouring, suddenly tasted like cardboard and ashes on his tongue and what he had already eaten threatened to repeat on him at Cas's words.

 

It made him sick to think that Cas was basing all his hypotheses on what Dean had told him. Cas and Jimmy trusted him to help them and he was just piling lies on top of lies.

 

And of course Cas would think that, because what other reason could there be for their pod malfunction? Dean had showed him and Jimmy the burnt out clock chip in Dean's own pod when they'd asked if he'd discovered why it had broken down. He'd shared his experience of trying to reset his pod and the realization that more was needed than just recalibration. He hadn't really gone into detail about Dick Roman's involvement, he figured the twins had enough to worry about without wondering if their own pod had been sabotaged, which it _had_ , but not with the same malicious intent as Dean's had suffered.

 

He'd allowed the twins to form the assumption that the chip in their pod had burnt out as well, when in reality, it _hadn't._ Yes, Dean had tampered with it, but their pod was still perfectly operational, as was the clock chip and it was plausible that if they had the proper drugs and facilitation as Cas was insinuating he could cobble together, they could indeed re-enter hibernation.

 

But Dean couldn't exactly reveal that the twin's pod was essentially undamaged without admitting what he had done and Dean was just not ready to do that yet, or possibly ever. Besides, they had only the one functional pod, which did fit two people, but even on the longest shot, presupposing they were able to arrange everything else, it still left Dean alone again and the twins back in suspended animation. And Dean would be right back where he started, which he could not even begin to face the prospect of. He was aware that his selfishness was reaching new heights with this revelation, but was it really any worse than what he'd already done?

 

Oh, denial, thy name is Dean Winchester.

 

Cas, of course, noticed Dean's distress, and leaned in for a closer look at his face. “You're pale, are you alright?” He questioned, sliding easily into doctor-mode, placing the back of his hand against Dean's forehead. The alpha trembled at the gentle touch, leaning into it, craving it so desperately, but knowing he didn't deserve it.

 

“You're a little cool and clammy, do you feel sick?” Cas inquired solicitously, his brow pinching up in worry.

 

“I'm fine,” Dean whispered through numb lips. It was only partly a lie. He did indeed feel sick, for many reasons, none of which he could ever tell Cas. But he was so far from “fine” it wasn't even funny.

 

Cas, mistaking Dean's reaction to his earlier words as despair, hastened to reassure the alpha, who was looking more ill by the moment.

 

“Dean...it'll be alright, we'll figure something out. At least you're not alone anymore, we're all in this together now...” Cas trailed off, his hand drifting down from the alpha's forehead, hesitantly rubbing his thumb over the light stubble on Dean's cheek. Their gazes locked and Dean made a low noise in his throat, nuzzling into the warmth of Cas's hand, even though he knew he shouldn't. But god, it just felt so damn nice to be touched, and not even in any kind of sexual way, just a purely comforting contact.

 

Jimmy came back just then and Cas let his hand drop away from Dean's face. Jimmy eyeballed their proximity, Dean's lack of color and his discarded sandwich with an eyebrow raised curiously, mild concern lining his face.

 

“You okay?” Jimmy asked, tipping his chin at Dean.

 

Dean nodded wordlessly, unable to speak, sickening guilt laced with longing overwhelming him. He already missed Cas' hand on his cheek. Swaying unsteadily to his feet, he picked up his tray with slightly shaking hands. “I think I'm gonna go lay down for awhile, guys, I'm not feeling too hot.”

 

The twins nodded in understanding, Cas especially looking worried. “I'll come and check on you if we don't see you for dinner,” he told Dean, with no room for argument in his tone.

 

“Thanks, Cas. Later, Jimmy,” Dean murmured meekly, before exiting the room.

 

Jimmy then proceeded to stare Cas down. “ _What_ was _that_ all about?”

 

Cas squirmed a little in his seat, not wanting to give his brother the bad news, but he realized that not only did he not want to lie to Jimmy, there was also no point in holding back. With that in mind, he relayed the same information to his twin that he had shared with Dean, eliciting a similar reaction. It also made him wonder why he'd chosen to tell Dean about his theory first before his own twin, but that was a twisted, confusing knot of feelings he wasn't sure he was ready to pick apart just yet.

 

“Well, shit. No wonder Dean looked like he was about to hurl,” Jimmy mused, compassion for the alpha overriding the mild twinge of jealousy he had felt when he'd witnessed Cas caressing Dean's cheek, even though he knew he was being petty for begrudging the alpha for taking comfort in his twin.

 

“So I guess that's it, huh? That was sort of the last thing you were trying to figure out, right?” Jimmy tried to sound nonchalant, even though he too, was suddenly no longer hungry, the tray of food in front of him totally unappetizing now. But deep down, he already knew the truth. If Cas said it wouldn't work, it wouldn't work. His trust in his twin was absolute. Add that to the look of shame in Cas' eyes, as though it was entirely his fault for being unable to pull a miracle out of his ass, and that said it all to Jimmy.

 

“I know I said we'd try everything, and for the time being, I think we have, but...” Cas ducked his head, but Jimmy tipped his chin back up with two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the stubbled cleft in Cas' chin that was identical to his own.

 

“Defeat is just around the corner, huh?” Jimmy finished what Cas had left unspoken.

 

“I'm sorry, Jimmy,” Cas whispered, looking altogether miserable.

 

Jimmy was not about to allow Cas to carry the burden of the gravity of their situation on his shoulders all alone as Cas was wont to do. Gathering Cas in against him, he hugged his twin tightly, petting a hand through his dark, messy hair as much as to soothe Cas as himself. This close, he was almost certain he could finally smell the familiar strains of sweet honeysuckle and earthy petrichor that were the hallmarks of Cas' delectable scent. A thought which went a long ways towards easing the desperation of their circumstances. The sweetness of his twin's scent was only darkened by the traces of sorrow and defeat he could smell also, and he hastened to do something to alleviate this.

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Cas. You and I both know you've done the best you can, that we both have done all we can think of, Dean too. I shouldn't have been so hard on him. This is an impossible situation if there ever was one. There's no one to blame, it just is what it is,” Jimmy consoled his twin.

 

Cas kept silent, letting Jimmy's words sink in, trying to force himself to believe them. He nuzzled his face into Jimmy's throat, drinking in the intoxicating scent of roses and rainwater, feeling gratified that at least he had this, the presence of his twin. He also felt grateful for Dean, too, for the chance to be there for the alpha, to let him know he didn't have to be alone any longer. Cas had meant what he'd said earlier, they were all in this together. There had to be a bright side, a silver lining to all of this and Cas was determined to find it and hold on tight.

 

Jimmy drew back a little to look at Cas. “Do you wanna go take a nap...or possibly fool around a little?” He inquired with a hopeful smirk.

 

Cas thought it over for a moment. As enticing a prospect as it was to have a little alone time with Jimmy, in reality, he felt like he needed some time and space to think through a few things on his own. Time and space paired with a mindless activity sounded like just the ticket, so regretfully, he found himself shaking in his head. “Hmm, no, actually I think I'm going to go for a swim, try to clear my head.”

 

Jimmy nodded in understanding, feeling a similar urge. Already knowing the answer to his next question before he even asked it, but feeling compelled to do so anyways, just in case he was wrong, he inquired, “Want any company?”

 

Cas smiled gently, hoping to lessen the sting. “Not this time. I...I need a little time to come to terms with...well, everything. The way that things are now, the rest of our lives, I guess.”

 

Jimmy sighed tiredly. “Me too,” he admitted. “I miss you, though. I miss _us_ ,” he conceded wistfully.

 

To an outsider, this may have sounded strange, but Cas knew exactly what he meant. Things weren't going exactly as they had planned and any intimacy they had shared lately hadn't been of a sexual nature. Cas had hardly even spared a thought for such activities since they'd woken up, much too focused on doing everything he could think of to get them out of this situation, to save them. But he couldn't deny that he missed Jimmy, too, missed being with him in all possible ways. Sharing a human connection seemed so important, now more than ever.

 

Feeling a rush of affection, he leaned back in to Jimmy's embrace, curling his hand into his twin's hair to nudge him closer, right into a kiss. Jimmy's lips parted easily underneath his, and Cas happily delved into his mouth, their tongues sliding slickly together, roses and honeysuckle mixing in a heady combination that made Cas feel pleasantly buzzed, enough so that he almost changed his mind about fooling around. But before he could voice this thought, Jimmy pulled back with a small nip to Cas' bottom lip and smiled sweetly at him.

 

“Alright, go have your swim. I think I might go for a run, myself. See you for dinner?”

 

Cas nodded dumbly, mildly scent-drunk, feeling dazed and more than a little horny. Jimmy grinned devilishly, well-aware of the effect he had on his twin and strutted off, whistling a cheery tune.

 

Cas stared after Jimmy contemplatively, feeling a mite grumpy and pressed the heel of his hand against his suddenly wide-awake cock, rubbing at it absently.

 

“Assbutt.” Cas grumbled, levering himself up, not sure if he was referring to himself, his brother or his wayward dick. Probably all three.

 

   
  


~*~X~*~

  
  


 

Leaving Cas behind and detouring quickly back to their shared room, Jimmy changed into some running shorts and a ratty old sleeveless t-shirt. He spared a few minutes to limber up before taking off at a steady jog down the corridor from their room and made his way through the ship. The rhythm and echo of his feet pounding along the floor synced up with the sound of his heartbeat and set the tone for his thoughts to process.

 

Jimmy was, in a word, frustrated. They had explored every viable option for a solution to their problem. But the well had come up dry. He felt discombobulated, but with a buildup of anxious, restless energy, on edge, needing something to do. And he couldn't think of a more enjoyable way to burn it off than sex with his favorite person.

 

He and Cas hadn't really had sex since they'd woken up, if you didn't count a couple of hurried handjobs in the shower a few days ago. Both of them were much too preoccupied with their current predicament and any further close contact had been purely for comfort's sake, born of the necessity to hold on to each other as tightly as possible for the sake of their sanity and reassurance that they still had each other, if nothing else.

 

Jimmy almost started giggling hysterically when he realized that, technically, he hadn't had sex in over 30 years. Well, that was a streak that needed to be broken as soon as possible! It had been difficult for him to walk away from Cas, sensing his twin's possible capitulation, but he'd taken comfort in feeling Cas' heated gaze on his backside and took care to exaggerate his swagger as he strode away. There really was no reason to worry. If he and Cas were truly marooned aboard this ship for the rest of their lives, which was how it was looking right now, then they had all the time in the world to have as much sex as they wanted. Just maybe not in exactly the scenario they had planned when they had set out on this journey.

 

He totally understood why Cas needed some down time, and wasn't above admitting to the need for reflection himself. Yet, to his omega hindbrain, it still felt like a mild rejection when the person he considered not only to be his best friend, but pretty much his mate too, turned him down for sexy times and also requested some space to think. He tried not to take it personally and resolved to use the separation to get his own mental head space squared away, but it was a tall order to fill. This was an adjustment of epic proportions. Life-changing barely covered it. Jimmy knew if he thought about it too much he'd probably go stark, raving mad, and that wouldn't be helpful to any of them.

 

Running was a good plan, a healthy outlet, one that he intended to take up regularly again. He and Cas had always gone running together back on Earth. They'd done most things together, so to be parted from each other felt...strange. Not necessarily a bad thing, just different. Jimmy too, had many things to ponder, to resign himself to. However, he was confident in the fact that after awhile he and Cas would naturally gravitate back to each like magnets, as they had always done, right from the beginning. The only difference now, was the third person, that, for better or worse, was a part of this equation now.

 

To Jimmy, Dean was still an unknown quantity, yet he found himself liking the alpha whether he wanted to or not. He was smart, kind and helpful. He could tell that Cas was drawn to him as well, a notion which both intrigued him and awoke his wilder, more covetous side. The side that wanted to bite and mark, to claim Cas as his own for all to see. If he had been younger, he might have been more tightly snared by the possessive claws of jealousy. But even though Jimmy liked to think he'd grown out of that stage, Dean sure was proving capable of reviving it in him. Plain and simple, he wasn't used to sharing Cas. Any past dalliances they had participated in had been separate endeavors and they had refrained from parading their respective conquests in each others faces.

 

When they were younger, he and Cas both had denied their feelings for each other and had gone through a phase where they agreed to see other people, hoping to find in strangers what they had already found in each other. It hadn't worked. Finally, they had both admitted defeat, and come to terms with the love they shared for one another, determined to be together and happy, even if society sneered and frowned upon their bond, some outright calling them abominations against nature. The forced interlude had made many things crystal clear to Jimmy: The salient point was that there was no one else in the world that made him feel like Cas did. Secure, loved and fucking elated, dammit! It was a rare mix of alchemy and biological chemicals (as Cas would say) that could not be recreated with any other person no matter how hard he had tried.

 

He'd always been the twin with plenty of nervous energy to burn, while Cas was always cool, calm and collected, if a bit nerdy. But Jimmy loved Cas' big, nerdy brain. Who said smart wasn't sexy? Stupid people, obviously. However, the way things were looking, two things were becoming very obvious to Jimmy.

 

Firstly, unfortunately, not even Cas' big brain and the three of them working together to find a solution to the deadlock they found themselves in was netting any results, much to their dismay, though Dean seemed less surprised and more resigned.

 

And secondly, and perhaps most interestingly, it would seem that Jimmy was not the only one who found his twin's cleverness to be sexy. Several times he had witnessed Dean sitting in rapt attention as Cas waxed on about some

little known topic, like the reproductive habits of bees or went off on one of his impassioned rants (usually also about bees). You didn't pay that kind of attention to someone if you didn't already have at least a little bit of a crush on them, in Jimmy's experience.

 

There had also been some pretty steamy instances of eye-sexing as well, though neither Cas nor Dean had seemed to realize they were doing it. Jimmy had also found himself subject to that hot green gaze too, with Dean running his eyes over Jimmy's form longingly, and it was surprisingly arousing. It should have felt invasive, but there was such a tenderness to it, rather than a purely sexual bent. It was more of a hunger for humanity, for human contact; not to say that there wasn't a salacious edge, there was, but it didn't feel like the alpha knotheads back on Earth, greedy to stick their dicks in the first wet hole they came across.

 

Dean's gaze was softer, more personal, as though he saw Cas and Jimmy as more than just omegas, but instead as people, individuals. Which was rare, most people looked at the twins and saw them as either glorified sex toys, maybe a novelty kink, or as a unit, a whole, not two individual entities.

 

The way Dean looked at them, not only as separate people, but also _together_ , not only made his omega hindbrain want to sit up and beg, but also prompted Jimmy to wonder if Dean had figured out the truth about them. He didn't think he and Cas had been too overt, but then again, subtlety had never been their strong suit either. However, Jimmy didn't feel trepidation at this possibility; for whatever reason, he didn't think Dean would condemn them.

 

The alpha wasn't quite sporting heart-eyes yet, but there was some serious admiration with a healthy side helping of lusty adoration brewing in those mossy green eyes. It was kinda hot, not that Jimmy could blame Dean, there was something indefinably sexy about Cas' deep gravelly tone that made even the dullest of subjects engaging. And Jimmy was no slouch himself, as a carbon copy of Cas he knew they made a fine, sexy pair. Jimmy had first-hand experience and a lifetime of knowledge in all things Cas and, by extension, himself.

 

Not to mention Jimmy couldn't deny the fact that Dean was handsome, gorgeous even. He'd never seen such adorable freckles on a grown man. And hot damn, his gemstone, Disney Princess eyes alone, were enough to make him stand out in a crowd and had made Jimmy stare on several occasions, that is, when he wasn't busy gazing at Dean's plush pink lips and imagining all the places on his body he'd like to feel them. He couldn't say he'd mind feeling that gingery blond stubble rub the tender skin of his inner thighs raw either. Mmm...

 

Jimmy let out a low, frustrated growl as he put on a burst of speed, jogging around one of the upper levels of the Grand Concourse.

 

Goddamn, did he need to get laid or what?

 

He slapped a hand against the ship wall before turning to double back the way he came, wishing he had thought to put on his wrist pedometer like he usually did while running.

 

Unfortunately, it was obvious that the months of isolation had definitely taken their toll on Dean, the damage etching faint lines of stress and worry around his eyes, forehead and mouth that were not to be confused with the adorable, crinkly lines that Jimmy had seen form the few times he and Cas had managed to pull a laugh or small smile out of the alpha with their antics. These little lines were sad reminders that, once upon a time, Dean must've laughed and smiled quite regularly.

 

Mostly, Dean looked pale and haggard, almost haunted. Sad and subdued. Tired and stretched thin as though he never got enough sleep. Jimmy found himself wondering what Dean had been like back on Earth, before all this. How he might look if he were happier, maybe a little tanned and more rested. Dean's appearance struck a chord in Jimmy, and he feared that he and Cas might end up the same, ghostly shells of themselves, bereft of hope, doomed to spend their lives aboard this ship, never reaching their new home. This thought saddened him so much that he promised himself right then and there that he was _not_ gonna let that happen to any of them. They would just have to find a way to make the best of a bad situation.

 

As much as Jimmy wanted to explore something sexual involving both Castiel and Dean, he knew it had to be handled carefully, done the right way. They were all stuck together for the rest of their lives, presumably, so any sexy entanglements gone wrong would be more of a challenge to navigate when you were going to have to see that person every day for the rest of your lives.

 

Talk about awkward morning-afters.

 

Which meant Jimmy couldn't just jump Dean's bones like he could with Cas, or even with any of the other partners he'd had back on Earth. His best bet, was to get to know Dean a little first, as a person, before he made any kind of moves.

 

It was also important to test out the waters where both Cas and Dean were concerned, to see if they were even open to what Jimmy's very active imagination had conjured up. Jimmy loved Cas with all his heart, nothing could change that, and he knew Cas was aware of his feelings and felt the same. Yet, he couldn't deny the draw he felt towards Dean, perhaps not as strongly as Cas seemed to, but there was still a pull, a quiet fascination with the alpha.

 

Though, how could there not be? Through unforeseen occurrence, the three of them were bound together irrevocably for life. And since Jimmy already knew all there was to know about Cas and himself, it was hard _not_ to be curious about the only other person you were going to spend time with for the next 60 or 70 years.

 

Jimmy had never found himself very attracted to alphas back on Earth, too domineering and aware of their knots and status. Jimmy didn't mind being dominated, but he preferred it more from other omegas and betas, who were all around just less threatening. Most alphas took themselves way too damn seriously. Dean, on the other hand was quite the opposite, and was obviously not your run-of-the-mill alpha. It was impossible to say what Dean had been like on Earth, maybe he _had_ been your typical knot-head, but now, whether due to isolation or the fact that he'd gone null, he presented, maybe not in scent, but in body language and mannerisms sometimes, as an omega, which came off as less than intimidating. In fact, Dean had been nothing but kind and helpful. Full of understanding and sorrow that he couldn't do more to assist them. _Not_ your typical alpha behavior. At least, not in Jimmy's experience.

 

Eventually, Jimmy tired himself out, feeling his energy levels drop enough that he didn't feel ready to spontaneously combust at the slightest provocation. Stopping back at their room once more, he found that Cas was still gone and proceeded to take a quick shower to rinse the sweaty funk off himself and change into clean clothes. He also snagged his holo-tablet with idea of doing a bit of writing. He then jogged down to the communal dining room, which was also empty except for a couple little bots trundling around aimlessly. He spared a quick thought for Dean, hoping he was okay and that Cas' bad news hadn't crushed his spirits too much. Jimmy grabbed a bottle of water and a couple of granola bars and made his way to the Observatory, where the same annoyingly cheesy orchestral fanfare started up as usual at his approach.

 

Plunking himself down into one of the soft chairs by the observation window, Jimmy unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and drank deeply. He stared pensively out at the sea of stars twinkling passively back at him.

 

 _Fuck_. He smeared a hand over his face tiredly. It hadn't even been his idea to do this. He wouldn't go as far as saying he shouldn't even _be_ here, but Cas had been the one with the dream fly to another planet and Jimmy had latched onto the idea gladly. The prospect of not accompanying his twin had never even crossed his mind. The thought of journeying to a new world, just the two of them, where no one knew them and they could live their lives on their own terms, greatly appealed to them both.

 

Once that idea had been presented, a plan had begun to form, Jimmy's first instinct, as always, was to write. He had wanted to write a book all about the huge endeavor of colonizing, sharing his experiences of a brand new life, on a brand new planet, supplemented, of course, by all the amazing photographs he knew Cas would take. Maybe Cas would even be able to get back into sketching, as he had loved to do when they were younger.

 

Well, all that was off the table now. But he still felt the drive to write, to express himself. To document these events, so someone, someday, would know what had become of them. Surely what was happening to them right now would make for a fascinating story, right? Though no one would probably ever read it. Or they'd read it long after Jimmy was dead and gone. Still, they had a unique set of circumstances on their hands, the first pod malfunctions in the history of interstellar travel. There was more to it than that though, like, what were they supposed to _do_ for the rest of their lives? It was certainly a huge life-change, just not the one he had envisioned for him and Cas.

 

Sighing, Jimmy picked up his holo-tablet and clicked it on, swiping until he had a blank document and then tapped on the talk-to-text app.

 

Clearing his throat, he began. “ _New File. My voyage....I boarded the Impala, accompanied by my twin brother, Castiel. I boarded the Impala with an idea, a destination, a desire for a new life. All of which, now, are out of reach..._ ”

 

Pausing to collect his thoughts, Jimmy looked away from the screen, staring bleakly out the huge observation window before continuing with his monologue.

 

“ _We've been awake now for seven days. Awake far too soon. Eighty-nine years, in fact. We are the unhappy recipients of the first couple of pod malfunctions in interstellar space travel history. A dubious honor, to be sure._

 

_And we may well spend the rest of our lives here._

 

_Stranded in a steel world, 1,200 meters long. A finite living space._

 

_We've exhausted all avenues regarding our situation, so far. Besides us, there's one other passenger awake. An alpha male. A mechanic named Dean Winchester..._

 

_He seems to have accepted our fate. He was awake and alone for over an entire year before we woke up, due to his pod also malfunctioning and rousing him early._

 

_I understand his resignation, but...I'm scared, for myself, for my brother, for all of us. I'm striving to stay calm and be strong, I'm of no use to anyone if I break down. I'm determined to make the best of a bad deal, but...I don't know how._

 

 _All the other passengers will sleep for another eighty-nine years, while we live out our lives on this ship...Traveling forever, never arriving. My only companions being my brother and a total stranger..._ ”

 

Jimmy trailed off here, unsure of how to go on. He needed more source material. Cas was often his muse, but reading back over what the app had recorded, he realized it wasn't very positive. He didn't want to depress Cas further, his twin already felt bad enough about not being able to provide a solution to their predicament. Maybe he'd talk to Dean tomorrow if the alpha was feeling up to it. Get his thoughts and his side of the story.

 

Glancing down at his watch, (which, yeah it was probably pointless to wear out in the middle of space, but it was a force of habit) he saw that it was pretty close to what passed as dinner time out here. Scooping up his things, he headed back to his room, where Cas had finally returned and was changing out of his wet trunks into dry clothes.

 

Castiel's scent was slightly dampened down by the chlorine from the pool and in a layer under that was the bittersweet chocolate tints of sorrow and uncertainty. He still seemed to be in an introspective mood and didn't say much, which was fine by Jimmy, he was wrapped up in his own thoughts too. But that didn't hinder Jimmy from letting his eyes rove over his twin's firmly muscled form, greatly appreciating the view even as it was slowly hidden again by worn jeans and a white button down. Multi-tasking was a wonderful skill to have.

 

Cas quirked a smile at him when he caught Jimmy watching, and after finishing buttoning up his shirt, held his hand out to his brother. Jimmy clasped it firmly, twining their fingers together tightly.

 

They were going to be okay.

 

 

~*~X~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...whatcha think so far? I welcome all comments, questions, incoherent screaming and keyboard face-smashing!

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo...whadja think so far? This fic has been near and dear to my heart for quite some time now, I'm so happy now to be sharing it with y'all and it would do my shriveled, blackened little heart worlds of good to hear what you all think. Kudos and comments are my life support :-)


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